“The quest to become is littered with the remains of those who missed the grace in being.”
This comes from the brilliant newsletter by
which I recently discovered. The article, The 3 delusions of becoming (and how to avoid them), was about how we get so hung up trying to control events in order to become something that we miss what is happening in the present moment.The quote above especially resonated with me and I wondered if it might resonate with you too.
I was always a very goal driven person. In my younger days that meant getting qualifications, getting to certain milestones on the corporate ladder and buying somewhere to live.
When I discovered writing, that lead to another sleuth of things I wanted to become – best-selling author, motivational speaker, life coach and creative business owner. I managed to tick some of these off the list but not all of them.
The quote resonated with me because I’ve spent the last three years dealing with the littered remains of trying to do those things. In that time I’ve learnt, often against my will, to be content with “being” not “doing”.
One of huge benefits of this is that I’ve been able to unshackle self-worth from achievement. (I wrote about that here: A Profound Lesson I Have Learned From My Fatigue). Only this week I had a conversation where I was reminded that simply being here as a human is worthy.
I’ve also learnt to be kinder to myself, to listen to my body and to make rest an essential part of my day.
It's a conundrum because as writers, we sometimes do have to push through our fears and make tough decisions about our schedule in order to make progress with our writing goals. Between 2017 and 2020 I battled against huge obstacles to get my book published and out into the world. I achieved my goal but burnt out my body and mind.
I had other writing goals but, because of health reasons, I’ve had to relinquish the quest to achieve them. At the same time, in spite of my fatigue, I have managed to complete early drafts of two further books and I have consistently written this newsletter. The journey has been happening slowly even though the destination has not yet been reached!
I wish I had more concrete answers to this conundrum.
What if we could be more content with the present moment?
What if we could unshackle ourselves from regrets of what we did or didn’t do in the past? After all, we can’t change the past.
What if we took off our blinkers that are set only on future goals?
There is only the present moment. Can we enjoy today for what it is, regardless of whether tasks were ticked off a list or goals achieved?
I’m curious to know what you think about this and how you manage to reconcile what you’d love to be in the future alongside the needs of exactly who you are right now.
Please leave a comment.
Plodding gently
Cali x
Photo by Jens Lindner on Unsplash
Afterthought
As I’ve been editing and proof-reading this piece I’ve had an insight. Sometimes we have to trust the universe, trust the rhythm of life. We have to trust that where we are right now is perfect for us and that what we need (which is not always what we want) will appear when we need it.
Not easy, particularly if you have difficult circumstances. But if we can let go and trust in this, life does become less stressful.
It’s also about having an open heart. We have to be open to possibilities that our current mind cannot yet fathom. This can help to settle any restlessness in the present moment.
This book is brilliant: Outrageous Openness by Tosha Silver. It’s an easy read and is chock full of stories and anecdotes where the author handed her life over to the workings of the universe and got amazing results. Reading it was a crucial part of my fatigue recovery and it led me to the treatment that was absolutely perfect for me.
I very much get in a habit—subtle, at first—of doing and exerting will. Yet I am much happier and more content when I accept the day and its troubles and let it unfold in front of me. Maybe not happier in the moment, but happier on the balance. It's a challenge, though, because the control worm turns slowly, and often I miss that it's happened. I get excited by the momentum of doing, spread myself rather thin, and then get very tired and wonder why.