This whole monthly column thing is very new to me. True, I’ve always been a decent writer, and I
read a lot. People at work and in my family
frequently ask for my advice when they have to write something. I’m particularly a whiz at resumes, because I
read them—a lot of them—every day for my job.
So it’s not like I don’t know how to put a sentence together. The challenge—and the risk—for me is to come
up with something worth writing about every single month. I no sooner get one article done than it’s
time to start working on the next one. Deadlines
loom and my thoughts dry up like a Death Valley summer. It didn’t sound too difficult when I made the
commitment. How hard could it be to whip
up a few hundred words every now and then?
Pithy, well-constructed, clever words?
On a subject someone would care to read about? Words that will be published in a
magazine? Good grief! What in the world was I thinking?
So why did I make this commitment in the first place? That’s precisely the question for all of us, isn’t it? How many times throughout our life have we asked ourselves exactly that? I mean, here we are. Our life is going along quite nicely, thank you. We’re pretty comfortable doing what we know how to do. Then all of a sudden we find ourselves making a commitment to someone to do something totally beyond our skills, knowledge and experience. Chair a committee when the thought of directing the actions of others terrifies us. Be the treasurer for our club when we can barely balance our own checkbook. Head up a project at work that will give us an unwanted degree of visibility. Run a 5k when a slow jog around the block is about our limit. Almost before we can stop ourselves, we hear those words coming out of our mouth: “Sure. I’ll do it.” No sooner have we spoken than those words begin to swirl around our heads in a dizzying spiral and we realize our life is going to get a whole lot more difficult and complicated. If we could only swallow them back! Alas, too late. The promise has been made and we’re stuck with it.
Doing something new is a risk. Risk is stressful and dangerous and just plain uncomfortable. Now I realize there are those intrepid souls out there for whom risk is pleasure. They seek out challenge like it’s their morning bowl of Post Toasties. I’m not talking to them. I’m talking to the rest of us, for whom stepping out of our comfort zone is akin to stepping into an empty elevator shaft. You know the feeling. Going dowwwnnnn! Now I get it; I really do. We need to push ourselves a bit if we want to grow. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s what they tell us in Self-Development 101. That thought is about as much comfort as Job’s comforters when we’re lying in bed at night with a niggling little clutch of fear in our chest, dreading what lies before us. Cold comfort indeed.
You know, when I was younger I always envisioned my senior years as ones where I could kick back, relax, and reap the benefits of my years of work. Now that I’m here, I realize that whole rocking-chair-on-the-front-porch thing would be pretty monotonous. I want something else to do. Something new and different than my first six-and-a-half decades. Something…dare I say it…risky!
So, the challenge becomes to discern just which risks are worth taking, doesn’t it? Aha! Here we go again down the path of becoming our most authentic self. Perhaps the risks we must take are the ones that wouldn’t be risks at all if no one were looking, but simply intriguing challenges that were of interest to us for the time being. We’re intrigued because that’s the path that we most need to follow. If it’s scary as well as intriguing, it’s because the ultimate risk lies within us. The true risk, I’ve come to realize, is that we’ll meet ourselves along the way and not be willing to recognize and greet the person we find there. It’s in that direction we need to step off most boldly, without looking fearfully over our shoulder.
Consider a quote from Quentin Crisp, a most unique man who made a living from his uniqueness, “Ask yourself, if there was to be no blame, and if there was to be no praise, who would I be then?” Similarly, I would ask you, if there was to be no blame or praise, indeed, if there was to be no risk, what would you do? Then do that.
So the truth, dear reader, is that I am writing this column not for you, but for me.
So why did I make this commitment in the first place? That’s precisely the question for all of us, isn’t it? How many times throughout our life have we asked ourselves exactly that? I mean, here we are. Our life is going along quite nicely, thank you. We’re pretty comfortable doing what we know how to do. Then all of a sudden we find ourselves making a commitment to someone to do something totally beyond our skills, knowledge and experience. Chair a committee when the thought of directing the actions of others terrifies us. Be the treasurer for our club when we can barely balance our own checkbook. Head up a project at work that will give us an unwanted degree of visibility. Run a 5k when a slow jog around the block is about our limit. Almost before we can stop ourselves, we hear those words coming out of our mouth: “Sure. I’ll do it.” No sooner have we spoken than those words begin to swirl around our heads in a dizzying spiral and we realize our life is going to get a whole lot more difficult and complicated. If we could only swallow them back! Alas, too late. The promise has been made and we’re stuck with it.
Doing something new is a risk. Risk is stressful and dangerous and just plain uncomfortable. Now I realize there are those intrepid souls out there for whom risk is pleasure. They seek out challenge like it’s their morning bowl of Post Toasties. I’m not talking to them. I’m talking to the rest of us, for whom stepping out of our comfort zone is akin to stepping into an empty elevator shaft. You know the feeling. Going dowwwnnnn! Now I get it; I really do. We need to push ourselves a bit if we want to grow. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s what they tell us in Self-Development 101. That thought is about as much comfort as Job’s comforters when we’re lying in bed at night with a niggling little clutch of fear in our chest, dreading what lies before us. Cold comfort indeed.
You know, when I was younger I always envisioned my senior years as ones where I could kick back, relax, and reap the benefits of my years of work. Now that I’m here, I realize that whole rocking-chair-on-the-front-porch thing would be pretty monotonous. I want something else to do. Something new and different than my first six-and-a-half decades. Something…dare I say it…risky!
So, the challenge becomes to discern just which risks are worth taking, doesn’t it? Aha! Here we go again down the path of becoming our most authentic self. Perhaps the risks we must take are the ones that wouldn’t be risks at all if no one were looking, but simply intriguing challenges that were of interest to us for the time being. We’re intrigued because that’s the path that we most need to follow. If it’s scary as well as intriguing, it’s because the ultimate risk lies within us. The true risk, I’ve come to realize, is that we’ll meet ourselves along the way and not be willing to recognize and greet the person we find there. It’s in that direction we need to step off most boldly, without looking fearfully over our shoulder.
Consider a quote from Quentin Crisp, a most unique man who made a living from his uniqueness, “Ask yourself, if there was to be no blame, and if there was to be no praise, who would I be then?” Similarly, I would ask you, if there was to be no blame or praise, indeed, if there was to be no risk, what would you do? Then do that.
So the truth, dear reader, is that I am writing this column not for you, but for me.