What happens if I’m not perfect?

What happens if I’m not perfect?

Nothing.

Nothing happens if I’m not perfect. Obviously. Because I’m not perfect.

I missed a day of publishing for the first time since I committed to writing every day again.

Woke up this morning. Realized it. Felt sad and disappointed. Then remembered how truly special yesterday was.

I will remember the highlights of yesterday far longer than I’ll remember not publishing a post, and I’m perfectly ok with that.

Can I practice even when everything sucks?

It’s easy to commit to a practice when things are going well.

The times I fail is when shit gets messy: being under-resourced, angry, sad, upset, distracted, bored, exhausted.

Practicing, building new habits and making change when it’s hard is the real jam. How do we show up when it’s tough?

I’m writing this morning’s Thought even though my mind is distracted. Even though my ideas are jumbled and not as clear as yesterday. Wake up, write post. That’s my practice. Everything else is just noise until this is done.

The single most important change I’ve made in my relationship to practice is to triple down when things are not great. I have compassion for myself and not wanting to lean in, and I tap into my resiliency knowing that this too is just a passing phase.

Maybe tomorrow it’ll be easy again and my thoughts won’t feel so forced. Maybe not. Regardless, I’ll still be here putting in the work.

What is my relationship to time?

The combination of the new year and recently turning 40 has guided my mind to wander to many fascinating places.

Leaving aside the philosophical debates about time being a fundamental aspect of the universe vs. a human construct without an objective reality, I’ve been most curious with my personal relationship and beliefs around time.

In the past, I have blamed “time” for things that did not live up to my expectations instead of taking responsibility for my actions. All of these have been there for me at some point:

• “There wasn’t enough time to get it all done”

• “I need more hours in the day”

• “I wish we had more time together”

• “Time is working against me”

Every one of those statements was me being a victim of time. While time may be a constraint or a consideration, it was never the root cause. Perhaps prioritization, planning, executing, motivation, organization, or procrastination, but not the fault of time. Time just does its thing and is (relatively, probably) constant for all of us.

My intention is to hold time as precious and sacred, and if I really go deep, as the most beautiful aspect of the human existence. Not a scapegoat for my shortcomings.

I have all the time I need. I am a master allocator of my time. And I choose moment to moment how to best utilize the time that I have.

What if I already broke my commitments for the New Year?

With 100% certainty, I know that there are people who broke their New Year’s resolutions already this year. Day 2 and done. Oh well, maybe next year.

I know because I have been one of those folks.

It was perfection or nothing.

“I already blew it. I’ll start next year, or next month, or next week, later, tomorrow.” A constant cycle of breaking integrity with myself, justifying and waiting for a fresh start.

Yesterday, I had one of the worst headaches of my life out of nowhere. Perhaps a somatic reminder of when I used to drink and be hung over all day New Years. My New Year’s Day plans went out the window.

Instead of waiting until next year and letting my perfectionist derail everything, I just let it go. This is a journey, I’m not perfect and today is a new day.

What if who I hoped to be was always me?

It’s been a minute since I’ve published anything. 23 months to be precise. It feels like nothing has changed and everything has changed all at once.

My last post was titled “What happens in the middle of transformation?” Appropriate fucking title John. Collectively and individually we’re in the middle of the transition from the old story to the new. Two years later and I can finally start to answer this question for me individually. In the middle of transformation is a lot of beauty, magic, synchronicity, tragedy, shit sandwiches, heart break, and grief mixed in with some of the most challenging years of my life.

I’m really proud of how I showed up at certain times. I am also ashamed of others. I needed to get my ass kicked by the universe, to get humbled and to find whole new levels of surrender that I didn't even know existed. I’ve had a powerful vision inside of me for years and I’ve been too afraid to take a stand for it. I don’t even like typing that let alone the thought of publishing it, yet here we are.

This past weekend, I was in the middle of a solo meditation retreat to work on a few things, and I heard a song that I’ve heard many times before. But this time it hit different. This is the opening line:

“What if who I hoped to be was always me?”

I’ve been in the middle of this transformation for years, but what if I’m already who I’m trying to transform into? What if I am already the butterfly? What if who I hoped to one day be is already me right now in this exact moment? Yeah John, what if?

I still have a long way to go on this journey, a lot more to learn and even more to embody. A lot of questions and only a few more answers than I’ve previously had access to.

And.

I’m already exactly where I need to be. Exactly who I need to be. Doing exactly what I need to be doing. And that is enough.