I wasn’t going to get up today, haven’t felt like writing all week. Where there used to be space to reflect, there seems now to be space only for reaction. For news and anxiety and the barely held capacity to adjust to the new normal, each day.
Honestly, sometimes writing is like thrashing in a rip. No idea is a good one. I can’t concentrate. Then I get frustrated with myself, which makes it even harder to write... I have found that if I’m struggling to get anything coherent out, usually one of two things has happened, so therefore one of two things needs to happen.
Excellence can be measured many ways. But how do you measure the best blog post of the year? The kindest random act for a stranger? The most generous networking introduction? The most beautiful film? The most heart-warming meal?
Our measure of success doesn’t always have to be output. It can be, but let that be your choice, not the default.
With our personal lives, we usually know what to do to solve our problems. But the ones we’re paid to be solving are nuanced, fraught with risk and unlikely to have a solution that pleases everyone; as Seth Godin rightly says, all the easy problems are taken.
Not the movie. A thing. THE thing. A place, an achievement, a title, a certain amount of money, an experience. That thing we desperately want. The desire to be in the next place.
Pressure can propel us, and other times it can stifles us.
Ugh. A New Year, and I’m late to writing about it. Everything I’ve read by other people has been better than what I’ve got to say. I’m running out of ideas for this stupid blog.