About three years ago this fall, a former student of mine died suddenly in a car crash. It was about a year after he had graduated, and he was coming home late at night from a Frisbee golf tournament. The suddenness of his passing stunned me.
At the memorial service, his parents and sister were, of course, shattered. Yet they were also eloquent and tender in the way only the rawest of grief can be. It’s like there’s a window of time right after a loved one passes when those closest to them enter a kind of “thin place”, where reality and truth are material and definite things to be interacted with on a minute-by-minute basis. Those who aren’t in that place can only honor such a delicate yet vicious experience from a distance.
I was deeply moved by the service, and especially affected by the sight of all of Will’s friends sitting in the front row wearing suits that had previously only been worn to formal dances and family weddings. I remember feeling angry that these suits had to be put on for such a devastating reason, and wishing those young men could be out enjoying the sunshine of another beautiful fall afternoon, instead of grieving their dear friend. I remember how their heads were all bowed so the backs of their necks showed above their collars and below their hairlines. Such a vulnerable picture, burned into my memory.
As I looked at them, I thought of my sons. My older one was 5 at the time, and I was overcome with emotion at the thought of what I would experience if he was taken in death. I couldn’t breathe at the thought. I felt like there was something I should do now—beyond writing in the memory book and even e-mailing a fond anecdote to the family later—something that would take root in my life and my family’s life, something in response to this brutal tragedy that was now associated with my own family.
What I decided to do is not as important as the fact that after I made this momentous decision to take action, nothing happened. I did absolutely zilch. Nada. Not a bit of anything. For a while. Days, actually.
It took me a good 2 or 3 weeks before I sat my (older) son down and had the talk with him that my heart had been burning to have since the day of the memorial service. I couldn’t tell you what I was waiting for, or why I waited. I’m sure I thought it was because I needed some other element to be in place or a certain obstacle had to be overcome before I could follow through. I don’t even remember.
So many times I think I have to do something BEFORE I can do something else. I think there’s something that must be taken care of AND THEN this other gig will finally take place. It’s all about timing, and FIRST that other occurrence has to happen.
The truth is, that’s cow poop. Whatever sprang into your mind just now when I described something that you haven’t done or attempted yet because of how it related to something else? Just do it already. Or at least do part of it. Step out in faith and see what happens. Maybe someone or something will come along and join you. Help will show up from a place you don’t expect, I can guarantee you that.
What if that hindrance or hurdle that you keep putting in your own way was removed? What if that one obstacle was no longer an issue? What would you do next?
That, my friend, is the real issue. That, right there, whatever you just felt when I said “What if…..” Is it your fear? Your doubt? Your hope? Don’t run from that. Do you hear me? Do. Not. Run. Whatever you do. Because whatever you felt when I asked “What if that (big, scary, monstrous impediment) was no longer a problem….that IS the problem. You won’t get anywhere you need to go without facing that square in the face.
Don’t panic. We can get help for you.
What I’m trying to say is that we’re all in this together (cue music). There will always be reasons NOT To do things. There will never be a shortage of rationalizations pointing towards the path of least resistance. If I can procrastinate having a conversation with my cherished first-born son after making an unbreakable vow deep in my soul, we can all find ways to excuse our inaction. But that doesn’t mean we continue to sit in it.
Sit, instead, in your anxiety. Steep in your worries. Find out what is really keeping you up at night. Dwell in the uncertainty that makes you so uncomfortable you want to scratch your skin off. And watch what happens.
Chances are your fears will turn out to be less than life-sized. And you, being shed of unwanted barriers, can move on to change the world already.
Let’s do this thing. Who’s with me?
“Change is like a dog that is utterly enthusiastic to see you the moment you decide to greet it. There is no right time to begin other than now.” Brooks Palmer, via Colleen Wainwright
Loving your website and blog, my friend! You are an inspiration!
I’m with you! thanks for this post mm.
after reading this (and today’s pep talk). i’m ready to do this thing.
first step: hello my name is jeff and i am a photographer AND a designer! take that fear. you got nothin’ on me son.