What Rises from All My Failed Lives

Brick by brick, I’ve built a foundation. To an outsider, it must seem that I’ve lived a thousand lives with myriad failures. If you were to measure the success of each venture monetarily, I would always come up with insufficient funds. Yet, I’m a constant learner, and passion has always been the calibration of my heart. Money is just paper, and paper turns to dust. With each experience, I’ve gained a layer to build upon. My nuanced background lends me credibility in multiple circles. I can connect with almost anyone at some level. That’s not a failure; that’s a gift. Maybe that was the goal all along.

I’ve always been a creative. I’ve flirted with art, design, film, photography, and countless other one-off forays. I chased the dream of being the “next Crocodile Hunter” for almost two decades. I espoused passionate facts about snakes and frogs while covered in swampy mire with borrowed cameras. I came close to securing my spot in the pantheon of Cable TV animal show talking heads. Each network’s executives had similar feedback, namely, “Why is this dude in the woods?” My “expertise” was gained from self-study—much like Steve Irwin—but I didn’t have the family zoo to lend credibility to my pursuits.

Completing only two-thirds of an environmental biology degree doesn’t have the same gravitas as a PhD. Who knew? I’ve always just been an ardent student of the things I love. I realize I’m not as young as I once was, not nearly as attractive as the Jeff Corwins of the world, and not bearded enough to be among the dynasty of ducks. Alas, I’m just a weirdo in the wilderness telling stories of the wonders I can’t stop loving. Time to recalibrate—at least as far as professional aspirations. It’s time to build a new layer on the foundation. Build until I’ve created something of substance.

I set out to make myself a household name in the church world. I took that biology background from my previous life and added a cornerstone of faith. When I completed my education in Biblical Studies, I ventured out into the wilds of creative evangelism. I used the foundation I’d built upon and shared my faith from a place of wonder. I handled snakes, albeit nonvenomous ones, to illustrate simple truths to kids and youth groups. I wanted them to know both the creator and creation, and above all, see the value in all life, including their own. If you can love a snake, you can love yourself. Unfortunately, that was a hard sell, and people couldn’t get past the writhing metaphors I brought into their hallowed halls. Christian television said the message was good, but the messenger had too many tattoos. John the Baptist didn’t fit the cultural norm of his day either, and gave some messages about those same brooding vipers.

Writing has always been and will always be what I fall back on. Although I have four books that I had to hustle out of the trunk of my car and never really took off in the conventional sense, I still feel glad to have written them. I’m thankful now that, moving forward, anything I write won’t have to languish in self-publishing purgatory. I appreciate the interest small publishers and magazines have afforded me as I continue to move forward. I’m excited for my first book of poetry to be published by an actual, legit publisher this fall. It feels amazing to have accomplished this small goal. I’m making progress, always adding bricks to my former failures. Something of substance rises from those prior attempts. It’s all part of the process to get where I’m going, as I’ve learned.

Many of my former ambitions have been shed. This isn’t because I became less passionate about them, but because telling stories is my true heart. Whether in front of a camera, a captive audience, or behind the blinking cursor on a blank page, it all feels like different iterations of storytelling for me, so I never stray far from that path. Still, spreading myself too thin results in burnout, and I’m learning the rhythms of my creative path.

I’ve disciplined myself to keep forging forward despite how I feel. I’ve heard you have to make yourself undeniable in your given pursuits. I’m trying. I’m not there yet. But I’m working hard to get there, adding layers to my foundation and stories to bleed on a page. I’m figuring it out one word at a time, beginning again and again as many times as it takes. If passion paid the bills, I’d be a millionaire. Until then, I’ll keep building on the foundation that is uniquely mine. What else can I do?

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Stan Lake is a writer, photographer, and filmmaker currently living in Bethania, North Carolina with his wife Jess and their house full of animals. He split his time growing up between chasing wildlife and screaming on stages in hardcore bands you’ve never heard of. He has been published by Dead Reckoning Collective, The Havok Journal, Reptiles Magazine, Lethal Minds Journal, and many others. He filmed and directed a documentary called “Hammer Down” about his 2005 deployment in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom in with Alpha Battery 5-113^th of the NC Army National Guard. You can find his books, collected works, and social media accounts at www.stanlakecreates.com

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.