Aside Posted on Updated on
I don’t know why I write, whether it will ever amount to what the world considers valuable: money or recognition. I don’t know if it’s all just a big waste of time. But I am compelled, so I write. I allowed myself to notice recently that I spend EVERY day thinking about what I will write. I think about writing even when I have nothing to write. This, I remind myself constantly, is reason enough to engage it.
What is it that you are called to do? Are you listening to that calling? Or ignoring it, squelching it, pushing it away?
There are lots of things we have to do in a day, a week. But spending some time on your passion is what makes that week worth living. Regardless of the outcome. Regardless of whether it “amounts” to anything in the eyes of anyone else. We’re so obsessed with outcomes. I’ve struggled with this, but I do, in my better moments, accept that the outcome is not the point. I’m following where I’m led. And if it goes “nowhere”, well, whose label is that anyway?
Maybe what we love to do is worth doing even if it is only whimsy.
I work with people who are very burned out because of the enormous and unending responsibilities they have, taking care of a sick loved one. Doing something they love, even if only for a half-hour, is the only way they keep themselves going. It releases and recharges them. Statistics show those caregivers who take care of themselves in this manner are healthier and actually live longer. The life force is never wrong.
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The information in this post is general information and is not a substitute for personal mental health advice.