It’s kind of a yearly tradition that we go camping with a few other families on the weekend that school gets out. Because nothing says welcome to summer like eating a hot dog that got burned on the camp stove and then fell in the dirt and had to get washed off by soapy dishwater.
My friend Marsha made a comment while we were watching the kids roast their marshmallows over the campfire. She said something to the effect of there being two kinds of people in the world: those who are more likely to plunge their marshmallows into the flames and let them blaze away like mini-infernos, and those who tend more towards gently and calmly rotating their puffy treats at perfectly even angles so that all sides get uniformly toasted.
If you can’t tell me right now which kind of kid you were, ask the person next to you what they would guess about you. They’re right.
Marsha’s statement reminded me of the hyper-self-consciousness I had as a girl and how, upon hearing her observation, I would have immediately tried to assign myself to one of the two extremes on the continuum she implied.
Oh, who am I kidding.
The self-consciousness is still right here, just barely beneath the surface but always ready to make an appearance at a moment’s notice.
That’s why one of my favorite rants is the idea that every choice we make is an opportunity to determine who we are. Including the choice of how to cook our dessert.
The importance of deciding who you want to be cannot be overstated.
Think of it this way: Imagine yourself in a room with some of your friends. Anywhere between 3 and 10 of them. Something benign happens that calls you out of the room for a moment.
What do you want people to say about you when you are not there?
What story do you want to be told about you? Right after you leave?
Don’t misunderstand me; I’m not recommending trying to get everyone to like you or admire you. This is not about manipulating people or getting them to do what you want them to do or think what you want them to think about you.
It’s about being all in.
All in is defined as: fully participating in whatever is going on in your life at that moment. Not shrinking back. No reserve. No excuses. No regrets or rationalizations.
All in isn’t frenetic. It’s present. It’s engaged. It’s fierce commitment to what is right in front of you. It’s not chaotic force or effusive words. It’s the kind of unambiguous clarity that comes from experience.
The clearer you are about what you’re here for and the difference you are here to make, the better you will do.
Of course, this is extremely hard to do well. As I’ve also mentioned before, inner resistance and self-sabotage are some of the most powerfully seductive choices we can ever face.
It’s scary to take responsibility for what people may think of us. Again, not in a calculating or scheming way, but in an intentional, “This-is-who-I-am-and-who-I-am-not” kind of way. What if we get judged? Or rejected? What if we leave the room and it gets decided that no one wants us to come back in? What if some plan conceived behind closed doors will be the end of me?
For this reason, we have become gifted at resisting our own lives. Seriously. If avoiding the responsibility to lead my life was an Olympic sport, I’d have more than one gold medal. Not trying to brag. It’s true.
We all have our own ways we try to back out of life. The most common way we try to resist our life is by withholding ourselves from it. And if you think deciding who you want to be takes a little effort, holding yourself back from your own existence is downright exhausting.
One of my friends was trying to finish a book a while ago. I hung out with her the day before the book was due. I was supposed to be reading and lightly editing, while she pounded out the final pages. But after 40 minutes or so, she stopped and said: “I think I’m short on paper. Wanna go to Staples?” After we returned from that errand, she needed to check on something with her editor and wait for him to get back to her. Then a bit later she needed coffee. Then we needed to re-work a beginning part. Then it was time for lunch.
I finally realized that she wasn’t being lazy. She was terrified. This was her second book, and the pressure to not just meet expectations but to exceed them was huge. I had been feeling confused and annoyed, but now I felt sympathy. She was cracking under the weight of it all.
If my friend could have caught or interrupted herself at those moments, she may have recognized her resistance for what it was and leaned in, rather than simply heeding her overwhelming desire to move on from the excruciating self-consciousness she felt at that moment. She could have exercised self-leadership over her life as it was right then, rather than making reactive choices based on fear. She could have been all in.
Today I encourage you to make a choice out of what you know to be true about yourself. Invite input in an area you have been avoiding. Take responsibility for your life. Because every choice you make is an opportunity to decide who you are. Whether you immolate the marshmallow or tenderly toast it, be all in. Lead your life.