enroute365

Prying my fingers from possibilities

Have you ever found yourself trying to take more than one path at a time? Maybe you've discovered that you don't get very far when trying to straddle several diverging routes. When writing my last post, The Nature of Life, I knew that I was not making any inroads through recent efforts to simultaneously direct and follow my life -- or, at least, my career. But upon reading your responses, I realized that my challenge was a bit more complicated.

Let me explain. I've come to realize that running my own consulting business on a full-time basis will never meet the goal I'd hoped for: being able to utilize my writing and/or design skill sets to their highest potential. Not when I must also function as the sales person, accountant and IT staff! So, it was time to re-evaluate. Still, I love being the strategist and the worker bee ... and having my own company allows me to test new ideas, something I wouldn't risk in a corporate setting. As a result, I continue to run my small enterprise with the intent of relegating it to a side business or "hobby job," after I find a full-time job that better fits my objectives.

Now, the U.S. economy isn't exactly cooperating with my plan! So, to temporarily supplement my income, I've accepted a temp job assignment. I was over-qualified for the job, but the position appeared just when I needed it. No other doors where opening at the time and, when I walked in for an interview, everyone and everything seemed so familiar, so ... right. "Maybe I'm being lead here," I told myself as I checked my ego at the door. Besides, my new contractor was so incredibly happy to snag me that my sense of self-confidence is still beaming somewhere over on Cloud 9!

As I undertake this job, however, I'm also trying to fill the gaps within my resume by educating myself and taking on specific non-paying projects that will enhance my portfolio. Because a new job or my own business might demand that I understand the new social media, I continue to immerse myself in that exploration, too. And, did I mention that I still envision myself as a freelance writer? So those efforts remain on my plate as well!

But, today as I responded to a recent comment, I realized that all these activities were not the result of a decision on my part ... but from a lack of one. I found myself trying to be a business owner, contract employee, job seeker, student and freelance writer ... all because I'd sure hate to miss out on any opportunity before me! I wasn't making choices, I was hedging my bets! And I've had to admit that I'm so afraid of not fulfilling my purpose or potential here on earth (or even fully comprehending what that is) that I' haven't let go of any path showing promise! And when anyone is so frantically jumping from one road to another, can s/he really be quiet enough to hear that still, small voice? Or proactive enough to intentionally forge a well-conceived future?

While last week I questioned when I should listen and when I should lead, now I'm facing the reality that doing either requires letting go: relinquishing my grip on a fistful of possibilities in order to effectively pursue one. Or two. At most, three. (I think you see my dilemma!)

Just try to pry my fingers off any one of my endeavors and I'm sure to give you a litany of reasons why I must retain it. Yet I'll also tell you, in all sincerity, that I am not a workaholic. Although, now that I think of it, I haven't taken a vacation in over two years.

My salvation lies, I believe, in the fact that I'm not very tolerant of indecision ... in myself or others. So now that I've realized I'm guilty of just this crime, correcting my course -- or, more accurately, settling on a single course of action -- should be easier.

I know I should be grateful. After all, I have a wealth of options to choose from. Many women don't have it this good. On second thought, some men don't either. I am facing the type of abundance that comes from having freedom. And freedom requires that decisions be made. I must choose which path to take at this point in my journey or remain stalled at the intersection. Maybe some of my options will reappear in the future. And that's what I'll remind myself: no true possibilities are ever lost because I am always free to retrace my steps and choose again.

How do you address decision-making? What choices are easy for you? Which are difficult?

My turn to listen, to wait

I haven't been in writing mode these days. Rather, I've been listening, reading ... tuning in to the shared thoughts of others. Writing must wait.

I'm not entirely comfortable with my silence; it leaves me with a certain impatience. I don't even know what I'm waiting for, yet I know this mental immobility is my mind's way of telling me to be still, observe and learn.

I recently read a Turkish proverb that instructed, "listen a hundred times; ponder a thousand times; speak once." That proverb resonants now in my brain; it is not my time to speak.

I hold no doubts that my own words will come in their own time and, in the meanwhile, the lesson that I'm learning is how to wait.

Waiting is part part of daily life. Matthew Wheeler at I'm Coming Back as a Bug describes it well. In his post, "The Art of Waiting," Matthew writes:

In the rat race of our life here in America it seems to be a lot of hurry up and wait. Traffic is the perfect example of that. You get to a light, the light turns green, cars take off like they are racing the quarter mile, 0 - 45 in three seconds and then two blocks later then next light turns red and everybody slams on their brakes. Multiply that very same action for three miles and you become amazed more people don't suffer from whiplash.  ... All that stress, inefficiency and wasted time. Hurry up and wait.

Still, our culture doesn't know how to wait. At My Life as it Was, Is, and Will Be, S.S. Greylord writes about waiting, too. In her post, "Car Washes, Margaret Thatcher and Patience" she asks, "What ever happened to patience?"

We want our food and we want it now. We want our coffee so we race through the drive thru expecting it to be ready as we brake beside them. We want our drive-cleaning done today. So they offer same-day service.

My mind isn't offering that same calibur of customer service, so I must learn to be patient. Still ... I hope it's not a long wait. I'm not sure I have the time for it.

My need to weed (2008)

[This post was first published on Enroute365 in April 2007, but after a weekend of yard work -- my way of reconnecting to Mother Earth -- I've decided to republish a slightly modified version at this time.]

A number of years ago, my husband and I bought a house surrounded with sumptuous landscaping. Out of necessity, I took-up weeding. Oh, we could have hired a service, but Frank and I are chronic do-it-yourselfers, the types that would rather spend hundreds of dollars on lawn and garden equipment than ask for help.

And this is a good thing. Because it gave me the chance to rediscover dirt.

As a child, I’d always been fond of dirt and digging and mud-pie making. But over time I’d forgotten. Forgotten how good the earth smelled after a rain and how it easily could be moved and shaped. So now reminded of this pleasure as an adult, it wasn't long before I'd abandoned my garden gloves, preferring to work with my bare hands.

To Frank’s amazement, I soon announced that I’d take over the weeding; I wanted the excuse to play in the dirt. But there was more to it than that. As much as I enjoyed the feel of connecting to the ground itself, I grew to love working with plants, plucking out the undesired encroachers and adding in those we saw as beautiful: hen and chicks, vinca, hostas, phlox.

As my confidence grew, I started creating new, blooming spaces where none existed before. A late-riser by habit, I began to rise early in the morning eager to begin my work outdoors. Neighbors would warn me, “it’s too hot today,” and I’d promise to finish early. “That’s quite an ambitious project,” they’d say. And I’d agree, but it was too late. I was already halfway done.

As time wore on, I came to realize that it wasn’t the dirt that drew me to yard work. Not even the plants. Rather it was -- and is -- my way of making an inner connection. I came to understand that in the wee hours, I can still see the traces of my dreams. In the morning's stillness, I can hear the messages of my soul. And with my hands busy in labor, my mind is free to explore the thoughts that reveal themselves to me.

I began weeding to keep the yard neat, tame. But I continue weeding to discover myself, my hidden voice unrestrained.

Do you have moments or activities in which you can hear your still small voice?  How do you experience this personal phenomenon?  What has it taught you about yourself?

A number of years ago, my husband and I bought a house surrounded with sumptuous landscaping. Out of necessity, I took-up weeding. Oh, we could have hired a service, but Frank and I are chronic do-it-yourselfers, the types that would rather spend hundreds of dollars on lawn and garden equipment than ask for help.

And this is a good thing. Because it gave me the chance to rediscover dirt.

As a child, I’d always been fond of dirt and digging and mud-pie making. But over time I’d forgotten. Forgotten how good the earth smelled after a rain and how it easily could be moved and shaped. So now reminded of this pleasure as an adult, it wasn't long before I'd abandoned my garden gloves, preferring to work with my bare hands.

To Frank’s amazement, I soon announced that I’d take over the weeding; I wanted the excuse to play in the dirt. But there was more to it than that. As much as I enjoyed the feel of connecting to the ground itself, I grew to love working with plants, plucking out the undesired encroachers and adding in those we saw as beautiful: hen and chicks, vinca, hostas, phlox.

As my confidence grew, I started creating new, blooming spaces where none existed before. A late-riser by habit, I began to rise early in the morning eager to begin my work outdoors. Neighbors would warn me, “it’s too hot today,” and I’d promise to finish early. “That’s quite an ambitious project,” they’d say. And I’d agree, but it was too late. I was already halfway done.

As time wore on, I came to realize that it wasn’t the dirt that drew me to yard work. Not even the plants. Rather it was -- and is -- my way of making an inner connection. I came to understand that in the wee hours, I can still see the traces of my dreams. In the morning's stillness, I can hear the messages of my soul. And with my hands busy in labor, my mind is free to explore the thoughts that reveal themselves to me.

I began weeding to keep the yard neat, tame. But I continue weeding to discover myself, my hidden voice unrestrained.

Do you have moments or activities in which you can hear your still small voice?  How do you experience this personal phenomenon?  What has it taught you about yourself?

The walk

Learn to be still ...

To see a world in a grain of sand