When does it get less hard to know what you want? It is the middle of the first month of the year, and I’m already confused about what things to say yes to and what things to turn away from. I have gotten a follow-up offer from the folks who want me to teach a leadership development programme. The programme still looks fantastic; the pay is still just terrible. Part of me thinks I should reject it out of hand for being out of the ballpark financially; part of me thinks I should suck it up and know that I very rarely make decisions about things based on money and it’s probably late to begin. My friends sit on those sides of the fence, too (with more of them on the Walk-away side than the Take-the-job side).
They want 30 days of my time in 2008. That’s 6 work weeks. They want it, of course, spread across the year in one- and three-day chunks. The work is really good. I really like the people.
Ah, but there are so many good things to do in the world! There is so much bounty, so many choices. I sometimes actually weep with joy and astonishment over all the wonderful things which are available to me in this life. Look at me. It is almost impossible to count all of my blessings. So do I take this job to be another blessing in my life? Or do I find that actually there are better options ahead and to take this job would be to foreclose on important and delightful possibility?
I have been trying to look back at decisions I regret. My regrets live in the time when I’m packing a suitcase at 11:30 at night, printer still humming from the workshop I’ll lead or paper I’ll present. Then the what-made-me-think-I-could-do-all-this regrets come to mind (sound familiar, Carolyn?). When I put one foot in front of the other and slog, zombie-like, thro
ugh my work. When I come to the startling realisation that I cannot actually do a good job at ANY of the things I’ve agreed to and thus will do a crappy job at all of them. These feelings have been my close companions these last decades.
When do I regret not doing something? This is a less familiar category. I felt pangs of 
regret when the Kenning boondoggle came up on my calendar and I pictured my partners/friends on a beach on the other side of the world. I regret that I can’t see Emily Saliers at
That might be because I say No so rarely that I don’t know what it feels like. Or it may be because when I say No it just slides off me and I don’t mind it at all. Knowing which of these was true would be a help.
I made a rule a couple of years ago that I would be clear about what I loved and say Yes only to those things which brought me joy. That rule is a perfect introductory sorting mechanism. Saying No to those things which don’t bring me joy has become fairly obvious—there are so many lovely things to do in the world, why would I want to involve myself in the not-lovely ones? But there are so many lovely things in the world that I hardly know how to choose among them.
Last night for dinner, I made panko tofu (which you should try, even though I can tell you’re doubtful), Michael made garlic mashed potatoes, and Rob made grilled zucchini. We sat in the sunshine on the front porch and listened to the birds and ate the food and it was so good I couldn’t stop. The food was magically good. Even Jane, who isn’t a tofu girl, couldn’t stop eating it (only Aidan, who isn’t a zucchini boy, could resist the lure of all three dishes). Thank god we ran out of food because otherwise I would still be there, still eating the food because I loved to have it in my mouth. I feel this way about my life choices—they’re all so good that even when I’m stuffed (=full in the American way), I can hardly turn down another mouthful. And so when I’m a little hungry, and I am at the beginning of the year’s buffet line, how do I know what to put on my plate? How do I know how to know? Each decision comes with its own joys, it’s own miseries. Each decision opens and forecloses. And all along, the time is hurling by us, kids growing, renovation bills mounting, interesting work everywhere I look. You won’t find me complaining about this as an issue, but you will find me walking on the beach, faced furrowed, as I try to figure it out. There are worse problems to have.
PS Pictures today are random: of the Whanganui River Road sign, beautiful Aidan, and the house renovation. And just so you know--I turned down the job.
2 comments:
Picking paths is always the hardest thing to do for me, though it has gotten easier. I remember spending so much of my time going down the path that I thought I might pick that I knew what would be happening weeks and months in advance. It was often a negative path. It's when I picked a path and it curved and twisted in unpredictable ways that I learned that the path picked me (sorry, it's corny, as am I). I couldn't know what it meant in advance because it was the journey that was the most important part, sometimes there is no second important part. I think the defining moment for me was when I chose a job that I thought would make me a lot of money (it did) when I was 22 or 23. In less than six months I realized that it wouldn't be money that motivated me. I was literally sick every morning because of the stress of having to keep the treadmill going. I felt like I was hacking through the thick undergrowth that grew back before I had a chance to step through the new trail. Without going into the story, education found me and I have not regretted the lack of money since. It sure would help to make more, but it wouldn't change the joy of the job. Anyway, I was glad to read your post today because of thoughts of the new adventure I am about to undertake with you. ~Jim
Oh, one more thing, tell Aidan I don't Zucchini either. He's as smart as he looks.
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