Floating Downstream
It's funny the way our mind works, the way our ego grabs the wheel and tries to run the show. When beginning a new venture, how quickly does your mind race to the potential end result(s)? Suddenly you are keenly aware of all the huge things you have to do, in order to reach that goal, all the things that could go wrong, all the possible reactions and responses of the world around you. It feels overwhelming, exhausting, daunting and impossible.
It is so easy to take something we love to do and then squeeze all the fun out of it the minute we decide it must serve a purpose. To get so thirsty for a thing to happen, for an outcome, that we lose sight of why we started doing the thing in the first place. It becomes one more thing we "have" to do, one more obligation we are resenting. Who wants to live like that? Nobody. And so those passion projects, those hobbies, those things we began doing because we enjoyed them, get shunted to the back of the obligation pile. After all, going in to the office may be an obligation, but it's not one we can abandon (or at least, that's what we tell ourselves). Pulling out the paintbrushes, or the camera, can wait.
And so it goes. We abandon our interests out of overwhelm or a sense of obligation, or just good old fashioned fear (which is perhaps the bottom line for all of our excuses). We tend to our urgent, but unimportant duties (the day job, fulfilling the expectations of our boss at the corporate gig), and abandon the not urgent, but important ones (living our dreams, following our joy, discovering our purpose).
Photo by Alice Achterhof on Unsplash
I am certainly experienced in this. I have managed to sit on, or abandon, many a dream due to fear. I have learned how not to dream, not to dare consider what I want, to the point that I have, at times, had no clue what I wanted, so scared was I to find out I couldn't have it. I have stopped many projects before I ever began them out of fear of not knowing how to get there from here, or out of a sense of overwhelm and urgency to get there immediately, sucking any of the fun out of the thing, thereby ensuring I never work on it again. I have told myself stories about not being good enough or "whatever" enough to be able to succeed, I have believed the stories, and so sat back, cozy and comfy where I am, not risking lest I am proven right. I have been doing it, lately, with this very blog. Forgetting that I love to write, enjoy doing this immensely, instead suddenly wondering what this might "become", fearing what people might think.
And that's ok. All of it. As I meander down this river, I am learning the things I learn, the way I am meant to learn them. I am exploring who I am now, releasing old ideas, embracing what is true in this moment. Still learning, after all these years. Allowing life to unfold, and thrilled about it (except when my ego takes the wheel and tries to force the unfolding, as if shouting at a plant could make it grow any faster).
Photo by Pahala Basuki on Unsplash
Try this: when the old habits rear their heads, when the need to control it all, envision it all, work out every detail starts running the show, take a breath. Imagine witnessing that ego careening around a race track in a clunky little go cart, or a streamlined race car, whatever takes your fancy. Notice how that car goes around and around and around the track, speeding, swerving, braking, but never getting anywhere other than around that track another time. Let it have its fun, pedal to the metal, and then turn your back on the noise, the stress, the track, and focus on the thing in front of you now. Do that thing, and let it lead you to the next thing, and the next, until it has led you away from the clamour and distraction of that racetrack, and you find yourself near a river. Get on a boat, and go for a ride, but don't bother paddling. Just keep doing your thing, and let the current take you where it will.
