Giving up. Wouldn’t it be nice? Wouldn’t it be great to take it easy, stop causing yourself anxiety disorders by focusing on things like dreams and possibilities.
Eradication of poverty?
Making a difference in the lives of others?
Creating a masterpiece or 10 ?
A happy, healthy life?
Don’t give up just yet. Who knows what’s waiting around the corner or after just one to ten more years?
You don’t have to be the most driven person who ever lived, it could be nothing more than a quiet voice inside you that keeps saying, “one more day, just one more try”. Get up, dust yourself off, there’s more for you. You are more than this moment.
Don’t let the quick-fix self-help gurus of this world kid you. You don’t have to spend $1000 on a 50 step plan. There is only one key to success. There is only one way to make it. The secret is: keep going.
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The perfectionists out there may think that you’re just trying to get it right, perfect. But the reality is:
YOU :: ARE :: STALLING
Waiting for when you’re feel’n it.
Striving. Throwing tantrums.
Truth is perfectionists don’t really care about creativity or learning or growing. All they care about is what everyone else thinks. You see perfection is more about what’s on the outside that what’s on the inside.
I’m calling you out.
To be a perfectionist is to be a coward.
To think that perfection is achievable for a mere mortal is just plain silly. The best we can hope for in what we produce and pursue in life is our personal best. Something that we feel good about, even if we are criticised or laughed at. Even when our personal best seems average.
Some people may actually hate what you do. You may look at it over after you’ve put it out there and notice 50 mistakes, minor or major. But you did it. You put yourself out there and guess what, nobody really cares as much as you do anyway, so you may as well be happy.
Pursuing your dreams, your best work is hard and messy and fraught with pain and mistakes. To try to avoid these is to stunt your growth and maturity. It takes practice to recognise when things need work and when we need to leave it alone. It takes guts to be willing to be criticised, corrected, challenged. Without these things how do we expect to grow as artists and thinkers and individuals. Stop stalling, stop hiding – put something out there today.
As I lay in bed one night I had a thought that filled me with the most exquisite hope.
What if the dreams we chase so desperately are actually chasing us?
If this were true, if my dreams are chasing me and your dreams are hunting you down… how would you choose to live?
- I would serve others more. Maybe if my destiny didn’t depend only on me, I would look for more ways to help others. Maybe I would look to increase others and help the move closer to their dreams – because somewhere some how someone else action is pushing me toward mine?
- I would love with abandon. An open heart sees possibilities a closed heart sees liabilities. I would stop looking out for who will hurt me and I would not retreat with they do hurt me.
- I wouldslow down.
- I would travel light. I’d have no use for emotional, physical, material baggage. I’d have to let go of old broken stuff because my dreams require both hands. I’d have to make space because my dreams need room to run wild.
- I would be honest. With myself, with others. My yes would mean yes and my no would mean no.
- I would not let another human being dictate what success looks like. I would feel it out, try things on and take them off if they aren’t suited to me.
- I would work hard on what’s in front of me and trust in the process.
- And when bad things happen and when I fail and when everything falls apart – I would get up and go again.
Call me crazy and naive and I’ll call you a cranky old fart. No I won’t. I’m sure you’re a well intentioned person who is probably just trying to be realistic and keep all expectations at a moderate level so as to not be disappointed. No offence, but that is really, really boring.
Why not live like we have nothing to lose and everything to gain?
Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” – The Prophet Isaiah
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Like many people, I have fond memories of weekly trips to the library with my mother and hiding with some newfound treasures. This does not make me an expert on reading, any more than going to Ikea makes me a piece of moderately priced Scandinavian furniture. I do, however, read a lot and whenever I talk about what I’m reading with people I often get the following responses:
1. People who wish they read more, which leads to complaining that they don’t have time to read more.
2. People who lament that they get bored quickly or that they just give up when material is too difficult to get through.
So I thought I’d put together some tips for anyone who wants to read more or get more out of their reading.
Read instead of…
- Always have a book on the go. I carry my phone, wallet, keys and a book EVERYWHERE I go. It may sound a little crazy (because it is), but I have a of fear of being stuck somewhere for 10-20-30minutes without a book to read. As a result of my obsessive fear, I get a lot of reading done in dead time. I am actually quite a slow reader with a pretty full life, so this is how I maximize the time I have to read. So don’t play games or look at social media on your commute or while you wait for dentist appointment – read! Bonus tip: switch off the TV, or throw it in the bin – whatever works for you – this will give you a lot of free time you never knew you had.
- Choose books from different genres and read from fields that you have no experience in. What you’ll soon realise is that there is a heck of a lot of stuff that you don’t know! This is a great way to increase your curiosity, which makes you more eager to read more. Create a reading list on Goodreads and start exploring today. Ask friends for suggestions and research the top selling books on various subjects.
Read for pleasure.
- Don’t just read to learn, read for pleasure. Read novels. Read delicious non-fiction. Read your guilty pleasures. Reading apathy can be cured in an instant by a luscious good read.
- I don’t read that much at home because of distractions like the fridge, the pile of washing, the bed and all my fluffy pillows. A coffee date with myself, sitting on the beach or in a park are far more productive and enjoyable. I also walk and read but this is a gift ,which I share mainly to show off. If you want to start walk-reading, my only tip is watch out for low hanging branches.
Read to add to the conversation.
- Read popular fiction to see what the fuss is about. Don’t just write off the big series, you could learn/relearn something about what captivates our culture or about good story telling. Even if you get to the end of a bestseller and think – “God, you may as well take me now because there is nothing good left in this world.” – just think, now you can add intelligently to discussions with normal people and then suggest other better books that they might like to read.
- Don’t waste time on average books. There are average books that fit into the conversation category above, which you can get through quickly (most pop fiction are easy reads) and then there are average books that are a slog. Close these books and burn them if you’re feeling dramatic. If you’ve decided to finish a book come hell or high water, I recommend skim reading to get through it – read the first and last sentence of each paragraph. It’s not great practice, but there’s still something satisfying about getting to the end of a book that’s been on your bedside table for 8 months.
Read to learn.
- There are so many exciting, inspiring and terrifying ideas out there. It’s a little devastating to me that I can’t know and understand them all. I think that if you have a brain, that is not complete absorbed with your own affairs, then you have a responsibility to keep learning.
Read to master.
- As writer, I dedicate time to appreciating and attempting to emulate great writing. I read classics and literary novels to get an understanding of what makes a great story and to study technique. Most of the books I read are glorious, some are hard work. When I decide to read a critically celebrated book, I read and reread every sentence until I get it. Sounds like a lot of effort, but for me it’s worth it because when I finally understand what on earth James Joyce is on about, I know I’ll be able to better understand what some of the great contemporary writers of our time are trying to do. It all works together.
Read to understand.
- Understanding is not just memorising information – it’s processing what you have learned and being able to apply it to other situations. Here are 5 things you can do if you want to understand more of what you read.
- Make bullet point notes of after every 10 pages.
- Keep a notebook or running document of new words or interesting excerpts. Use them in everyday conversations.
- Read more than one book on the subject.
- Read reviews, essays or articles about the book.
- Remember this: “If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.” – Albert Einstein
Read to develop your critical thinking
- Critical thinking is one of those terms thrown around in Liberal Arts degree outcomes summaries. I used to think it was useless because doesn’t everyone think critically. The answer, sadly, is no. Many many many people read and absorb whatever the author happens to think on a topic – regardless of the source of their information. Sentences that start with “‘They say that —–” are enough to make the hairs on the back of a critical thinking person’s neck stand up. Ask questions of what you read. How has the author come to the conclusions that she has? What sources are being used to support this argument? What background or heritage is this thinking coming from? Reading critically means thinking critically, which means that we should actually think about the way we think rather than accepting everything we think as being true just because we think it. (So there!)
Albert Einstein put it much more eloquently: “Reading, after a certain age, diverts the mind too much from its creative pursuits. Any man who reads too much and uses his own brain too little falls into lazy habits of thinking.”
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People who use dichotomies to draw conclusions are idiots. (see what I did there?)
I’m being cute. Truth is we all do it, every one of us open-minded, liberal, thinking folk make generalisations and separate ourselves from the barbarous “other” in order to make a point. And what’s that point? That we are superior, intellectually or otherwise, and the others are somehow defunct, deficient and without hope of change or improvement.
For some reason humans feel the need to define ourselves by what we are not, what we stand against, what we hate.
And we all do it. We make assumptions about each other based on what you or I wear, read, believe, my ethnic background, your peculiar haircut. We sort and categorise, probably because we can’t get to know everyone on a deeper level – so generalisations help us to locate our own place in the world. That is until others make generalisations about us, until someone puts you or me in a box and says this is where you belong, this is what you are like.
When that happens we are incensed. It doesn’t matter if it’s personal or if it’s a broad comment on something you are a part of, our knee-jerk response is – “You don’t know a thing about it!” And yet, we liberally dispense our own opinions about things which we too know nothing about.
Despite our best efforts we still live in a world of:
Smart vs Stupid
Believer vs Non-believer
Liberal vs Conservative
Right vs Left-ish
Community vs Corporate
Rich vs Poor
Me vs You
Though we don’t have all out wars about it, we still think in dichotomies like these – somehow our side of the coin always being the most favourable and important. Waving a dismissive hand over “them”, relegating them to that box we’ve created, which somehow keeps us feeling safe and sound in our own way of thinking and being.
I am just as guilty of these things. You need only read MY ENTIRE BLOG to find that I frequently commit the sins of generalisation, assumption and finger pointing. And what I’ve realised is that I am most prone to these lapses of intelligence:
- When I am angry.
- When my values, expectations, ideals, principles (or the like) are affronted.
- When I feel ashamed.
The opposite is true too, when I am happy with myself, when I feel secure, when I am sure of myself and what I think and believe:
- I feel inclusive.
- I see the good in others (no matter how different they are from me).
- I believe in that all people have the ability to be reasonable, intelligent, kind (I said the “ability to be”, not expecting that this will be a reality at all times convenient to me. You dig?)
These are moments of freedom. Where I don’t need to see the bad in you to reinforce my belief in my own goodness. Instead of assuming, I ask questions. Instead of defining myself by what I oppose, I try to work out what I actually believe. We are so quick to be critical of other people’s opinions, but hardly ever do we apply the same rigour in assessing our own opinions.
Oh that I could be like this more often, that I could be free of fear, suspicion, indignation so that I could open my hand to my brother or sister and say, look what I’ve found to be true – now tell me how you think on such things. How can we improve on our thinking together?
Now that would be a lovely conversation.
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I was sitting in bed reading Isaiah when I came upon this scripture. I gasped. Then I let out a wail, an audible wail, of despair. Mat actually came into the bedroom to check that I was ok.
I was not okay – worst fear ever in ancient, eternal words!
So I posted it on Instagram with the following thought:
“Sometimes life feels like being in labour, we struggle & push to give birth to something of significance & hope to God that it doesn’t turn out to be a massive fart.”
Some people got it. Others laughed awkwardly. Many took it as some kind of announcement.
But here’s the deal. We are pregnant, full, heavy with purpose. With promise. There is something big that each one of us is made for. And I know it’s not just me who feels this, so many people I speak to have this sense of there being more, so much more, we are meant to do with our lives.
This sense of “more” hit me hardest one afternoon walking and talking on the beach with my mother. She’s 50-something. I’ve seen her all flaming-eyes with fight, ready to take on the world. I’ve also seen her beaten down and broken by the most awful circumstances. I’ve seen her high on adrenalin and passion and also in the pit of despair and discouragement. I know her like she knows me. And on this one day, as we walked and talked, my 50-something year old mother started to cry as she said,
“I feel like I haven’t done my big thing yet.”
She’d had a brilliant career in teaching, she’d raised the family, she’d fought injustice on every front she encountered it, she’d worked very hard her entire life – and yet, there was more. For her it was a desire to progress in her career and do meaningful work in a community – which I’m proud to say she has very recently had the opportunity to start, as the new school principal in an Aboriginal community in regional New South Wales!
I have never been pregnant in the physical sense, but I have carried something in my spirit or soul or whatever that deeper part of me is. I have dreams about it and I wake up feeling overwhelmed by the weight of it. It is so heavy sometimes, but never has it felt unpleasant or ill-fitted. There are butterflies of anticipation and a sweat of anxiety. And it is wonderful, and it is awful. And it is a blessing, and it is a curse. And it feels right, but it hurts like hell. And… I’m not entirely sure that any one of us will ever carry to term.
What I mean to say is that I don’t think we ever arrive, because when we accomplish one big thing, there is always one more big thing to do. So we carry it and we have contractions and we labour and we produce things, but IT remains in us. Because maybe IT is not an achievement or a title or a project. Maybe this Big Thing I carry and you cary is a Beginning. Maybe when we leave this earth our legacy will be that we started something bigger than ourselves, something that continues though we do not.
So what the heck are we suppose to do with this EPIC pregnancy and labour? I consulted the midwifes of Google for some help. Sorry to the dudes (and squeamish ladies) out there, but I think this is beautiful and profound:
- Prepare a place for (space for) the “baby”.
- Remind yourself that you are designed to give birth.
- Create a quiet, nurturing space for the “labour”.
- Breathe deeply through the hard times. Pain is a normal part of the life giving process.
- Rest between “contractions”.
- Imagine the “baby “working hard to come out too.
- Know that your birthing experience will be like no one else’s.
- Trust your intuition, stay present and you’ll know the right thing to do.
- Visualise waves crashing… (I don’t get this one, must be a ‘had to be there’ type of thing.)
- Position yourself well.
- Try to relax into the process, let your body do what it knows.
- Connect with support people.
- Lots more stuff about water, which might be very specific to the actual birthing process, but sometimes a hot bath or soak in the ocean is just a stellar idea.
I’d also add that for those who have miscarried or lost the dream somewhere, remember that as long as you have life in you, you can always go again. So go again.
Now you know, go forth and multiply!
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Oh snap, it’s October and while you were busy doing your thang, cutting sick shapes on the dance floor of life, Kaizen-ing till your armpits were sweaty, it happened. Weariness snuck up, tickled your left ear and then slapped you in the face like the punk you are.
WHAT THE HELL!
We’ve got stuff to do. Projects to pioneer. Fake deadlines to hit. People to prove stuff to (ouch, to close?). Goals, oh sweet Lord all the GOALS!
Your head says, “You got this, just push through.”
Your body says, “Just you try me and I’ll show you an Oscar-winning meltdown.”
Somewhere in the middle your heart whispers, “Help me!” in that melodramatic way it always does.
You know what this all means?
You are human. You are normal. You are giving it your all and that’s a great way to live, but you.need.to.calm.yourself. You will not die. This is not it for you. You need to stop biting off other people’s heads and you really need to stop doing this face:
You are scaring small children.
As someone who knows (I mean really knows) I have put together the October Insanity Intervention:
- Close the 17+ browser/Word/Excel/Indesign windows on your desktop. (No, not later, right now!)
- Clear your desktop. Put all your inactive desktop files into a folder labeled “To file” and all the active desktop files into a folder labeled “To Action”. If you have more of a rustic/ hands on workstation the same principal applies to the mountain of disorder right in front of you.
- Take a deep breathe, maybe go for a walk or a nap. (Are you listening, this is not a drill people!)
- If you can, pull out for a weekend – don’t touch your projects. Let the dust settle.
- Stop medicating the anxiety with alcohol – hear me now. It’s a cheap way of dulling the noise or numbing the pain, but it is not helping. Consider taking a month or two off the juice.
- Take a break from coffee/tea/energy drinks. (This one hurts.) Sip that herbal rubbish and breathe through the simmering rage. You may be all kinds of nasty, but you can only prop yourself up with artificial stimulants for so long before you crash for real, my friend.
- Rest. Take some couch time – be it of the professional talk-therapy kind, or literally just lay on your couch for a few hours every Saturday. Actually, be horizontal as much as possible – on the beach is a nice way to do it, so is in a meadow (preferably with daisies) or just on a patch of (clean) grass. If you don’t have access to these things, it’s time to reconsider your living arrangements.
- Have a week (or 2 or 3) of doing what YOU feel like doing. Sleep. Stare at the wall for hours. Read the mindless books. Go to museum. Eat the bloody carbs.
- Clean a space. Your bedroom, your creative space, your kitchen, your desk. Declutter, dust, throw out, recycle, donate. It’s not a race and no-one’s gonna do the white glove test after – this is for you and only you.
- You good? Only when you feel good, you are allowed to take out a clean sheet of paper and pencil and write something. A letter reminding yourself what you’re about. A list of the few things that really matter (not a to do list… although… no stop that). A mantra or a mission statement. Look I don’t actually care what you write – that’s your deal, put down something that makes sense to you, something that inspires you. Just no more weight goals or career achievements, no you’ve had enough – that’s January’s problem. Right now you need to see some light, you need to be loved, you need to be nourished and feel alive.
Yes, yes you probably know all these things. Well done, you’re very clever – just like me. And yet, us clever, kick-ass people find ourselves in this place again – on a freight train to a very dark place. Listen to me. Slow down, you have your whole life to be awesome. For now, be kind to yourself and be kind to others. You may get more life out of it that way.
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Pretty dramatic, yeah?
Well it’s about damn time someone called it out.
No it’s not hatred, war or hollywood. It’s far more subtle and pandemic.
It dulls the eyes.
It eats joy for breakfast.
It causes good people to do nothing good.
It saps courage.
It breeds selfishness.
Ultimately, it’s goal is to kill your soul.
It’s name is apathy.
No-one wants to live like this, but it’s so easy to fall into and so hard to get out. How does it latch onto us? Fatigue? Busyness? Lack of purpose? We start to feel weary, bored, stuck, sick. A hopelessness sets in and then we flat line, for weeks, months, YEARS.
I’m all for declaring war (especially when the enemy is the Greatest Evil on Earth), and I’m a bit of a “go in guns blazing” kind of girl – however, apathy is one of those tricky buggers that we have to be a little smarter with. I used to think I could fight apathy in myself with sheer determination and focus. That if I pushed harder, things would be better. But there’s one problem with this, who the heck wants to pick a fight when they’re feeling apathetic?
Unfortunately, it does take some kind of desire for more from life. If you don’t have that desire, I’m sorry, but I don’t think there are enough self-help books in the world to help you manufacture it. You either want more for yourself or you don’t.
If you have a little bit of desire, a little bit of hunger for more, I think a great place to start is to imagine what life could be like without apathy. I mean, imagine it, having a sparkle in your eye, a bright outlook, a willingness and the energy to do something truly great. What would that feel like? Cultivating a strong sense of purpose and determination in ourselves sounds like hard work, but what if it wasn’t hard? What if it was easy for you? What if you did more than just the minimum requirement, what if the work you did made you feel good about yourself?
You may not realise it, but you’re already taking a little bit of ground by just entertaining the thought that things could be better. When I think outside of what I’m feeling, I start to realise that apathy was not actually a part of me. It sits on me, making a meal of my despondency, but it is not actually in me. I don’t have to stay flat. I don’t have to stay down. And that’s when I realise I have what it takes to haul ass and kick ass. What I’m saying is, when you let your thinking rise above a feeling, you learn that you are in control – and that my dear dear people is where the power is. (Boomtown baby!)
In a war there are many tactics used to take ground. Every battle is different and you win some, you lose some. When fighting the Greatest Evil on Earth, it’s important to remember that it will take time and practise to win and keep ground. Don’t beat yourself up if you fall down. Keep dreaming even if your dreams are mere shadows of what they used to be or could be. Keep rested and healthy – sounds simple, but apathy strikes when our defences are down. Keep taking steps forward, because the next one could be a breakthrough.
“Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.” – Sun Tzu
— I wrote this very short story a few years ago, prompted by a memory that I was always ashamed of. As I read over it now, I realise how fragile memories are – one moment they’re rich and colourful, the next they seem like washed out dreams. I think this is why I write, to hide some of my memories away for later. To remember a feeling so that I won’t forget the lesson. I’m reposting this here at the request of my mother, who I still think is the strongest and scariest person I know.
It was 1994 and I was nine years old. There a strange boy in my class, a trouble maker. Aggressive, scruffy, a loner. He was also very fair skinned with white-blonde, wiry hair, which was the strangest thing of all in a “Coloured” school in South Africa.
At some point I realised that this strange person had a very strange attachment to me. Maybe because I seemed to be the only person in our school who wasn’t afraid of him. I probably yelled at him about taking my stationary or because he drummed his hands on the desk next to me while I was trying to concentrate. But I was afraid of him, I just yelled a lot as nine year old.
One day while walking home from school, a jolt of fear hit me when I turned to see the whitey following me. I gave him the evils and walked a little faster, telling myself that in ten minutes I’d be home and my mother would tell him to hamba. He didn’t try to catch up, he didn’t try to talk to me. He just followed like a stray dog. Maybe I should have been reassured by these things, but I felt hot and angry. You could never tell what he would do next.
Finally, I was home. As I opened the door, I turned once more to see him standing at the bottom of my driveway, watching me. I pretended to look through him and then quite confidently walked into the protection of my home.
My mother was in the kitchen making burger patties for dinner. I ran to her and began ranting about him. About how much I hated him. She seemed to ignore everything I said, until I mentioned that he’d followed me home. She wiped her hands and walked to the front door. I knew it! She was going to let him have it. I began looking around the kitchen for the broom, she’d need that to chase him. She was a school teacher, she knew what to do. At that moment I loved my mother more than anything, she really wasn’t scared of anyone, not even creepy ghost boys.
She opened the door wide enough for me to see that he was sitting on the kerb of the pavement at the front of our house. With his back to us, he looked up and down at the houses across the road. Instead of yelling at him, she did something so bizarre and unexpected that I yelped in shock. She called out to him and invited him in.
I remember panicking. I felt like a thousand tiny ants were crawling up and down my arms and legs. Did she want to die today? Seeing him walk into my living room was surreal, like a nightmare that you keep willing yourself to wake up from.
She made both of us sit in the kitchen with her as she cooked a few of the beef patties she had made. I tried not to look at him, but I knew he was sitting very still. Very quietly he answered mum’s questions. I don’t remember anything she said, I don’t even remember the sound of his voice. I do remember my confusion and anger at this intrusion, at my mother’s stupidity.
She took us to the table and put a fat, juicy burger in front of each of us. It had herb flavoured beef, tomoto, beetroot, lettuce and her spicy secret sauce. I ate about half of mine, sneaking looks across the table as he gobbled his up. He didn’t look up from his plate once. Despite how quickly he ate, he did not spill a drop of sauce, or one bit of lettuce on his plate or on his thin, hole riddled uniform. Mum brought out another burger and he gobbled that one too.
When he finished, his eyes looked glazed with satisfaction. He stood up from the table, blurted a soft, Thank you, in mum’s direction and then let himself out. I stared at the front door for a long time, my half eaten burger cold in front of me
I always think of that. How I saw that kid everyday, but never noticed what mum saw in an instant. How she ignored my reaction to him. How the external things about him that had repulsed me, were the very same things that made her extend kindness. How his strangeness that made me fear and hate him, made her care. I don’t remember if I ever spoke to him at school after that, I don’t remember much else about him. All I know is he never followed me home again.
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The novel you’re working is not going to work.
Your business is going to fail.
The career you’ve been pursuing is a waste of time.
Your big idea is too stupid to comprehend.
These are thoughts that make our chests tighten, our breathing shallow and our eyes well up a little.
We know what it’s like to make mistakes. We’ve all done it before and we’ve felt ashamed and foolish. You may well think back to some of your biggest mistakes and even though no-one is around, you quietly wish the ground would open up and swallow you. Why is that?
Why are we so afraid to be wrong? For things to backfire or spontaneously explode crap into our faces? We’re conditioned that way. In school if you asked a stupid question or you failed a test at school or your mum bought the wrong brand of shoes and made you wear them to school – there were always kids, teachers, other adults on hand to tell you how wrong you were. How you don’t fit in or how there’s something not quite right about you. Man, sometimes being a kid seemed like one shameful experience after another – learning all the ways not to be.
In his influential TED talk, Sir Ken Robinson said, “If you’re not prepared to be wrong, you will never come up with anything original.” How can there be creativity and new things is we’re so caught up in trying not to fail? The fear is so distracting, how can we ever get any good work, or good screwing up done?
Well I’ve decided I want to be free. Free of the fear that I’m making a mistake. Maybe I am making a mistake, maybe the whole premise of my life, my actions, my efforts are a total waste of time. And yet, I love it. I love my life and if that’s just wasting time then so be it. What is life by the passing of time anyway? I’d rather not hold onto it too tightly, I’d rather not be too precious about it. Cause it doesn’t matter how tightly we hold life, it goes on anyway.
I want to celebrate life and I’m learning that it means celebrating the fails. Could we cherished our mistakes as much as we currently fear them. What if we stopped being ashamed of failure and wore it with pride, laughing at the fact that no-one else could have failed quite as atrociously as we did.
I’m going to start today. I have several failed attempts at my big novel sitting in old files in a cloud somewhere. I have so many dumb ideas that have been excellently executed and a few great ideas which have come to nothing. I fail so many times at being the person I want to be. And the typos, oh God the typos! I don’t talk about these things a lot, because I used to think they had little pieces of my soul in them. But they don’t .They were just false starts, wrong thinking, bad form. No they don’t have bits of my soul in them, my soul has bits of them in it. And I’ll carry them with pride, because no one fails quite as gracefully as I do.