We are an always-on, go-get-'em kind of people these days. Most of us, anyway.
Especially those of us stateside, who lack the perspective that thousands of years of history gives one. We're a restless bunch, we Yanks: kind of sharklike in that always-moving-forward kinda way.
Sometimes, it's good to move forward. As the panel of wildly (at least, by my terms) successful entrepreneurs on the panel at the alumni event I attended tonight largely agreed, in many cases there's no such thing as moving fast enough.
That's true. It's as ridiculous to say "never go at breakneck speed" as it is to have "whoa, Nelly" as your default mode. For the 4000th time since I first noticed it, I'll repeat: everything in moderation, moderation inclusive. I'm glad I did myself damage on a scale that would prohibit my run for the presidency, and not just because I think it's one of the crappiest jobs around. I like that I lived the Debauched Life, however briefly my delicate constitution allowed for it. What's the old saw? Better to ask forgiveness than permission? That in our advanced years, we mostly regret the sins of omission, not commission?
The older I get, the more experiences I have under my belt, the more I realize that the real value, the true skill or gift, lies in a state of relaxed readiness. A lack of attachment to outcome. A goal or a vision that can remain intact even as the game plan shifts. Improvising.
Tonight, I went out to meet a bunch of new people, and ended up speaking mostly to one good friend (you know who you are.) It was heaven, and not just because we were doing it in beautiful surroundings with great snacks and two of my favorite red wines (hello, Cambria Pinot! hello, La Crema!)
It was heaven because it fed my soul. New acquaintances are wonderful, and I hope to meet many more of you in the extremely-not-too-distant future. But old friends are touchstones: important reminders of where we've been, how we've grown and what's involved in getting from one end to the other.
Almost incidentally, as I was walking out of the incredibly posh venue, I realized that the last time I'd been there was with my father, probably five years ago, when he was still alive and while he was still traveling. It's a place that for so many reasons I'd been dreading a return to, and when I did? Nothing but silk.
From one planner (just ask The BF) to maybe a bunch of others (there's a reason you're here, right?), keep your plan. Just keep it loosely.
There is beauty in full-steam-ahead. There is beauty in floating adrift.
There is peace in knowing when to do what...
xxx c
UPDATE: My friend, Evelyn Rodriguez, points to a great story about attachment (and the importance of discarding it) involving Krishnamurti.
Image by Ryan Yam via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.