Tag Archives: setting goals

the weight of the impossible

A bit of a personal post today. A chance to vent, perhaps. Or just a chance to clarify what I’m feeling right now. And what is that?

The weight of the impossible.

Yeah. Sounds big, doesn’t it? The weight of the impossible? But that’s what it is because, silly me, that’s what I feel driven to achieve.

My choice, my doing, no one to blame but me. I know how high and difficult the climb is and yet I choose to continue. Choose to sacrifice and struggle for the smallest of steps forward. And we’re talking painfully small steps here. Like, laughably small.

And, no, this isn’t one of those “woe is me”-type of deals. Not at all. It is, like I said, a chance to vent and/or clarify what’s making my mood so heavy these days.

The weight of the impossible. I like that phrase. I don’t like how that phrase feels as I live it, but I like the heft of it as I write it. The solidity of the sentence. The cadence and rhythm. It’s a memorable phrase that perfectly captures my present journey.

And, honestly, it’s not like I’m the first doing what I’m trying to do. Thank god! This road is teeming with those who’ve walked before me. Who’ve struggled, fought, failed, fallen, stood up and eventually succeeded. Everywhere I look I see shining examples of the impossible having been done.

Right now, though, I’m surrounded by silence with no clue as to whether or not my efforts are known or seen or appreciated. I think “Yes” but I don’t know. Obviously, and I’m calling a spade a spade here, today is one of those days where the candle flickers and the dark grows darker and the doubt grows deeper.

But I still march on. Like a man in a long tunnel surrounded by deepest, darkest black who keeps putting one foot in front of the other because he knows without a doubt, with a faith that goes beyond reason or present reality, that there is an end, a fantastic end, and if he keeps walking he’ll find it.

That’s me.

So I keep writing, breaking down my long-term goals into shorter term bite-size achievable chunks — I’m somewhat famous for my email bullet lists, by the way — and doing what I can to move forward. Or even just stay where I am because the worst is to slide back. And today, for whatever reason, feels like a day where I slid back. At least in my head.

So, I dig in my heels, narrow my focus and just keep going. Keep pushing. Even if the push is imperceptible and the reward is negligible. Even if what I do now won’t show a result weeks, months, even years down the road, if at all, I just do what I can from where I am. Because that’s all I can do.

But you know what would help?

A sign.

A Yes. An “I hear you.” Or “you’re on my radar.” A “I like your work.” A nod — not even an answer, but a simple nod — that lets me know I’m on the right path. That I’m moving in the right direction. An acknowledgement that would help me find the spark to click Send on yet another email or to dial the phone for yet another unanswered call or make another bullet point list that might never be seen or discussed.

That, any of those really, would be the light shining far, far at the end of the tunnel telling me to keep walking.

See, this, right here, this is what the weight of the impossible does. It tests your faith. Dips you low so you can climb back out. Strengthens your resolve. Allows you to flirt with the possibility of failure knowing that your desire for a different result is stronger. That, even unheard or unseen or unacknowledged, you will fight on, keep pressing, keep asking, introducing, discussing. You’ll keep making those lists and getting the words on the page and brainstorming ways to carve out a space to help make the impossible possible.

But here’s something else I’ve learned: we’re not designed to carry the weight of the impossible by ourselves. This burden is designed to be shared.

And, now that I think about it, that’s what I’m feeling. The need to share what I’m creating with others. Build my dreams with people. I feel like it’s time to stop traveling this road by myself. To stop walking this alone.

Yeah, now that I think about it, that’s exactly what I need.

See? Clarity. I knew there was a reason to write this post. 🙂

 

How about now?

One thing I’m learning is that the world moves a bit slower than I do.

Let me explain.

I write quickly, the words tumbling onto the page with the patience of a sledge hammer.  Almost as if I, too, am eager to see what happens next.  

And I decide quickly.  I do my due diligence, of course.  Ask pertinent questions, judge the answers via my BS detector, weigh it in relation to my current and longtime goals, and then say Yes or No.  I don’t take weeks and weeks to get there.  I do it in a matter of minutes if not seconds.  My brain just works quick, you know?  

In short, those pieces of my life that I have some modicum of control over move quickly.  And if something I write or say or decide turns out to be too many kinds of wrong to count, I quickly admit the mistake and move to fix it any way I can.

When it comes to those pieces of life that I don’t control — that part of my own personal pie graph taking up more and more slices by the day –, well, things … move … very … very … slow.

Those I work with — or hope to work with — have other scripts to read, other decisions to make, complicated schedules to coordinate.  Family, friends, associates, colleagues all wanting their time and attention.  Big decisions about big projects, you know?  My wants and “needs” taking a necessary back seat to their lives and (true) needs.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I get it.  I do.  And when I need to be patient, working with a long-term goal in mind, I’m as tenacious as they come, my efforts in some cases stretching over years.  

But, OMG, when it comes to the projects I’m working on now, the waiting that goes into the smallest, tiniest step forward is torture.

And this is good for me.

You see, in the past I would have worried, pacing endlessly, checking to make sure my phone had a dial tone or that the internet was working, certain THAT was why I hadn’t heard anything.  Now, I put the headphones on and get back to work, well aware that the necessary pieces are in place and moving and I have no control over how quickly they move.  I’ve learned that, in cases like this, patience is a virtue.  Honestly.

Besides, when one thing hits — and it inevitably will –, everyone will be curious about the next thing.  And it’s best to have that next thing ready and waiting instead of saying “well, I’ve got a great idea about … “

No one wants the idea.  Well, they do because ideas are the lifeblood of what we do.  But they prefer the script.  Or book.  Or play.  Or Pilot.  And, from a legal standpoint, as a writer, it’s best to have the idea executed in order to protect it, i.e., ideas aren’t copyrightable;  the execution of those ideas are.  

So the point of this Post?  

Heck if I know.  

Maybe I just wanted to publicly pat myself on the back for feeling like such a clever boy.  Probably.  And, let’s face it, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a pat on the back.

So, how about now?