A couple of months ago I was on the phone with my father, talking to him about some of the things going on in my life. There were weird little art projects I’d started dabbling with, a screenplay that I’d been co-writing for years and had recently found a new passion for, mindfulness classes I’d begun teaching, and the idea for this newsletter. I told my dad about all of these things, and what came out of his mouth next shocked me.“You know,” he said “it’s great to be able to watch you in your midlife crisis.”
“What!?!?!?” I thought to myself, “Midlife crisis!” After years of feeling uninspired and somewhat asleep behind the wheel (Thanks a lot global pandemic!) I was finally feeling awake and excited, and to reduce this to a “midlife crisis” suddenly made all my passion and energy feel…trite. But what bugged me most was not that my father had seemingly belittled my passion projects as a product of a midlife crisis, but the thought that gnawed at me for days was, “What if he’s right?”
I simmered and bubbled and stewed on this for a while until a Facebook post popped up on my feed that made me rethink everything.
The post was from a TV editor I used to work with named Marc Dupont. I first met Marc back in 2005 when we were both working on a reality show all about people who were really really bad drivers. It was the punk rock days of Canadian reality television where production companies all seemed to be run by anarchists who were allergic to things like structure and rules. Looking back on it now it was ridiculously fun, but also amazing that anything actually got accomplished. Millions of dollars were funnelled into productions that felt like they were held together with scotch tape and bubble gum.
One of my best memories of that time was hanging out in Marc’s edit suite and learning about how to make TV. He was by far one of the best editors I’d ever worked with. He was crazy quick with a sense of story that I’ve rarely seen matched.
I haven’t worked with Marc in years, and hadn’t spoken to him in a while either. But he popped into my consciousness when I saw this Facebook post:
I was aware that Marc had gotten out of the editing game a few years ago, but what I didn’t know was that Marc was now the captain…of a pirate ship. A pirate ship that tours the Toronto harbour while entertaining guests in various pirate-y ways.
I stared at Marc’s post for a long time, taking in the depth of his smile. And then I typed what felt like the only words that I could muster:
Marc quickly responded. It was a response that in many ways felt perfect.
For days his response stuck in my head. And that’s when I knew I needed to know more.
“It’s not that I ever thought that I’d be a pirate,” Marc told me over the phone a few days later, “it’s just where I ended up. It’s all a process.”
Before jumping ship and fleeing his life in television Marc was in a dark dark place. He had been taking three different kinds of medication to help deal with depression. He was convinced that the problem was people, he hated having to deal with people. And in television there were people everywhere, all the time. For Marc it was all just too much. And then one day he had enough. He got up from his editor's chair and, walked out of the suite and never came back.
Marc didn’t have a plan. The only thing he knew was that he needed to take the summer off to figure things out. He knew some people who ran a water taxi service in the Toronto harbour figured that driving one of their fleet for would be the perfect rebound gig for him. A job where he could work outside, be on the water, and largely keep to himself.
But there was one problem, Marc quickly found out that in reality driving a water taxi meant that he would be forced to come face to face with people. People who wanted things from him. People who wanted to talk to him. And that would happen over and over again, all day, every day. But what Marc learned through this process is that he actually loved being around people. In this context it energized him. For the first time in a long time he found himself in a place where he could relax into a state of presence he had long been missing.
Come fall he didn’t look for another editing job. Instead he found a gig driving a school bus.
“Sitting in the driver’s seat on a bus with 40 kids sitting behind you is frickin’ awesome!” Marc told me. And I understand why. I see pure joy in that image. Chaos, yes. Laughter, no doubt. But a paycheque equal to what he was making before, no way.
Marc figures he’s probably making about a quarter of what he used to make. He also acknowledges that his whole transition to his new life wasn't easy.
“There’s still a shitload of baggage that I’m holding on to,” he told me, “and there is still a ton of second guessing. There are still peaks and valleys, I’ve just gotten better at navigating it.”
Driving a water taxi eventually led to him becoming the captain of a pirate ship. And driving a school bus has led him to play with the idea of getting his truck driving license simply because the idea of packing his dog into a truck and hauling freight across the country seems fun.
Marc has no ten year plan. He’s stopped looking for the next “big thing”. “I don’t know where I’m going, and there’s a real joy in that.” he told me as we were wrapping up our call. “I don’t know where I’m headed, I’m not sure where I am, but I know that in a couple of hours I’ll be out on the water and all will be good.”
A couple of months have gone by since my father uttered the phrase “midlife crisis” to me, and since then I’ve found myself obsessively trying to figure out if he was right. I’m not sure if Marc would categorize the journey he’s on as a midlife crisis, and at this point I’m not sure I would label mine that way either. I’ve tried to be mindful of finding ways to chase the fun without burning it all down because I’m in a slightly different position than Marc. I have two kids at home, which means that as much as I’d love to ditch my ten-year plan and join Marc on the high seas, it’s a choice that I can’t really afford to make.
Labeling my current experience a “midlife crisis” also feels trite. Maybe a better phrase is “midlife awakening.” I’ve felt asleep at many times in my life and at this moment a nudge to wake the fuck up is more than welcome.
I have no idea where my awakening will take me, how long it will last, or even what my version of Marc’s pirate ship will look like, but I’m damn curious to find out.
P.S. If you want to follow Marc’s adventures on the high seas, you can find him here.
P.P.S. This week’s Mindful Chicken comes from Samantha. She drew her chicken “Merge” while quarantining in a hotel room in small town Ontario with a wicked case of Covid. Samantha also writes a great newsletter called Audio Love. Highly recommend checking it out.
I was a little nervous about sharing this. I've edited enough reality shows to know that outside views of personal lives are risky. This is great Geoff. Thanks for the opportunity to voice a journey that has so often seemed so wrong, and to see it from an outside perspective. Best of luck on yours. What could possibly go wrong. Let's go.
Love this Geoff -- it's now required reading for the current TT cohort for our discussion on "Right Livelihood" :)