It’s over a week into January, and another new year has passed. I feel quite different about it this time around. Last year, I came up with a detailed list of goals I wanted to achieve in every area of my life. It included a rigorous schedule of all the people I would keep in touch with, skills I would acquire in visual and fiber arts, instructions for expanding my meditation practice, and a laundry list of other obligations that I can no longer remember. I looked in the folder where I keep written notes of everything I keep track of, but that plan seems to have gone in the recycling bin long ago.
Sometimes I feel that the more time I spend making extensive plans like these, the less I am able to accomplish my goals. I must have barely achieved anything on that list, but there are still new things in my life from the past year that I’m happy with. I’ve developed an almost-daily tin whistle practice, gotten to know some friends and family members much better, and became a much better swimmer. However, none of these things happened because of all that rigid planning. I started playing the tin whistle over the summer after receiving some advice from my dad and happened to find a weekly Irish music session at the college I’m attending. I signed up for swim lessons and a mile-long open ocean swim on a whim because they happened to be offered near me. Most of the deepest connections I’ve made with people have been made while working through times of unprecedented turmoil and distress.
The more experiences I have, the more frequently I learn that you can’t force growth. You can put effort into certain areas and practice certain skills, but there is still no guarantee that things will work out the way you try to make them work out. One big way this has shown up for me is in running. After successfully completing my first two marathons, I had plans to set a big personal record with a third marathon this year then complete my first-ever thirty mile race two months later. Unfortunately, several months of racing without any breaks have finally caught up to me and I now have a mysterious leg injury. I thought pushing myself to run further and faster would be the next step in my journey, but it appears that I needed rest and recovery instead. I also have plenty of time to do even more swimming. I didn’t know one could become a long-distance swimmer unintentionally.
The lessons I learn from running have an uncanny way of showing up in other areas of my life. I can’t force myself to run a specific distance or time perfectly, and I also can’t force myself to make specific academic, professional, or personal accomplishments. With a new semester of school coming up, my mind is plagued with worries of how my classes will go and whether I’m setting myself up for the right career opportunities. I have a tendency to overload my commitments and get trapped in a schedule where I barely have time to breathe. It feels like I have to be doing specific tasks at specific times every hour of the day to keep my whole life from falling apart. Although this stress might not show up as a sudden burning pain in my lower leg, it does slowly creep into my life through exhaustion, social isolation, and an apparent inability to accomplish even the simplest of tasks.
This year I have no specific goals or requirements for myself. My only desire is to stop trying to force things. I deeply enjoy things like my running, my studies, and my creative interests, and I don’t want to waste all the time I have with them worrying that they’re not progressing the way that I want them to. Even though I can’t force specific outcomes, I can maintain consistency and intention that will leave me open to growth. Growth often shows up in ways that I never expect. There is so much that I still don’t know about the world, so planning the perfect way to experience it is impossible. In only a week from now, there’s so much I will experience by simply showing up, no matter what unfolds after that.
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