I recently asked the good people on my Facebook page which way I should go with a decision.
I won’t recap the choices here, suffice to say that one would push me physically further than I’ve ever been pushed before in aid of a cause I care about, while the other is a solo creative endeavor that I’ve been putting off forever.
I felt like I needed to do the first out of some kind of duty.
I felt like I needed to the second because I wanted it.
Both things matter to me in different ways, one of them being for other people and one being, essentially, for me.
And that’s where I got stuck.
I write a whole lot about doing what matters, and how making value-based decisions brings confidence right along with them. In exploring and writing about this I try to hold myself to a high standard. I always try to walk the talk. I don’t always succeed but I’m buggered if I won’t give it my best shot.
So in wrestling with a decision that like this one, a decision that could see all kinds of things happen for good or for ill, I struggled to make sense of this particular decision making onion.
There’s what I want to hold myself up to.
There’s the example I want to set.
There’s the story I want to tell.
There’s the impact I can have.
There’s how I honour the things that matter to me.
And then, there’s what I bloody well want to do.
All that stuff rattled around in my 42 year old noggin without anything happening. Then, pretty much immediately after I asked for input, I saw that I was actually asking for permission.
Permission to put the ideals, examples and “oughts” to one side and do something for no other reason than I wanted to do it.
Permission to say “fuck it, I’m doing this for me.”
Bishops can keep their piety. Oaths can keep their solemnity. Armoirs can keep their rigidity.
Earnestness makes me want to dress up like Fozzy Bear and dance a jig to “If I Could talk to the Animals”, but there I was, falling into the trap of thinking about duty, expectations and outcomes rather than fun, ease and texture.
So, I’m going back to my novel without any clue what will happen with it and without any pressure to have it make a difference to anyone but me.
Sometimes, that’s perfect.
Fuck it. Do it for you.