You can say no
There’s one of you. There are many, many “others.”
You have every right to dictate where and how you spend your time.
Tag: choices
I will tell you how to get what you want
If I told you there there was one thing you could do every day to get you exactly what you want, would you do it? (The body, the girl, the salary, the job, the car, the book deal, the promotion, the ring, whatever.)
I’ll tell you exactly what you need to hear; concrete steps that inch you towards your dream, but before I do, you must commit to doing one act daily. (This tells me if you really, REALLY actually want it. Or if you’re just pretending.) You must promise: one action, every day.
Would you do it?
Because somehow we’ve stepped onto the all-or-nothing bandwagon. Yes, we’ll get on board, but only if we can run a fast sprint to where we want to go. “Daily” means commitment and time, both of which sound daunting. “Can you guarantee the outcome?” you say. “OK, maybe I’ll try. But ONLY if I’m promised That Thing.” Because it’s too much work, too much effort. And the dream! It’s so far away, we can’t even see it from here. So why bother?
Now I want to ask: What if your dream isn’t really it?
What if, at the end of 90 days, you change. If, 124 days later, your perspective shifts and you realize you actually want something else. What if, at the end of 315 days, you find yourself happier? On the 402nd day, you discover a completely new you, a you with more happiness and grace and wealth and peace than you ever before imagined.
Our lives expand when we move past all or nothing. All or nothing typically results in self-sabotage; we give up, we give in, we feel guilt and disappointment and shame if we can’t go from 0 to 10. We want what we want, and we want it NOW. If we can’t get it now, very few people will invest the time and energy to get it later.
But what if small steps made us feel better? If a 10 minute daily walk brought us more peace and comfort in our bodies than bi-weekly torture sessions in the gym? If small pieces of chocolate were included into our days instead of weekly binge “cheat” days? If our dream of writing a book happened slowly, over time, instead of “When I quit my job…when I take a vacation…when I get a raise…when the kids leave the house?”
What if your dream could start today? Maybe not the grandiose final version, not the iPhone 7, but the first generation; something real and tangible and in our hands. Today.
Would you take some rather than none? Or do you want to hold onto an empty dream?
“Live a story.”
I saw this written on a climber’s memorial along the trail to Mount Everest. It haunted me as I walked the ridges leading to Base Camp. Mostly, it got me thinking about the story I was telling. I wasn’t sure if the way I was living was leaving a legacy. I certainly wasn’t convinced I’d be missed.
What’s beautiful about stories is they are always changing. Like a river, our lives encounter different obstacles that can reroute our course. If we remain open to possibility, there’s no limit to the chapters to be written.
I’m grateful I found the guts to quit, even when it felt like stepping off a ledge. I made a few bargains with chance and risk, shook hands with disappointment and failure, but I knew it was part of the deal. I did it because I wanted to see what was on the other side.
No, I’m not immune to anxiety and black confusion. I am refusing to let either get the best of me. Instead, I’m clawing my way towards the unexpected, and it’s taking me down paths of problem solving and giving.
Everyone is writing their story as they go. Listen, and share yours.
On days you don’t feel like showing up
Nothing is right. You feel poorly. The deadline was missed. Your team isn’t pulling weight. The download is taking too long. He shouted as you walked out of the room. A dish was broken. You’re batting less than average. And now it’s raining.
What if you coaxed yourself into believing your “C performance” is OK? That sometimes, being there is enough. Maybe you’re not brilliant, but you’re here. You’re functioning. You’re committed. You’re owning your work: This is you, it’s yours, and you’re not going anywhere.
What if I told you this was OK? You are OK. Could you step into a gentle place of acceptance? Would you have more compassion for yourself and more importantly, the people around you?
On days you’re less than great, sometimes this is when it counts most.
Everything I learned is wrong.
Somewhere along the way, I was taught:
Doing nothing is bad.
FAST is always best!
Rice is bad for your health.
You will marry your soul mate.
My time in Nepal has caused some major reassessment.
There are certain beliefs we hold onto. They damage our progress, our potential, even our relationships. And we don’t always realize it.
It’s worth taking a look at what you “know” and why.
The Invitation
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’
It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
-by Oriah