Snowdrops: Leica Q2
“Taking oneself seriously begins with a radical acceptance of some truths that seem evident to those outside us, but which are intimidating to that insecure ego through which we manage the tenuous conduct of daily life.”
What are my goals?
Whether it be the start of a calendar year or part of a strategic planning cycle, it feels as though I’m frequently asked to predict the future. I’m resolving not to fall for that anymore.
Even my hobbies qualify for this kind of ambition; a recent article asked me to consider my cycling goals for the year. As a youngster I used to ride my bike because it was fun and I liked going places, but I couldn’t find a place for that kind of answer among the list of questions.
Wrestling my adult ego, with its concerns for control, domination and achievement, has felt a little easier recently. It just seems that so much is evidently unpredictable and unknowable. Yet the lure of anticipation, targets and forcasting still feeds our anxiety. We fear that, at the end of the day, we might not measure up to someone else’s expectations.
Or worse, our own,
While acceptance of this kind of anxiety is healthy and normal, it’s denial can be troublesome and it will likely lie in wait, ready to stalk us with feelings of inadequacy. Over some hard years, I’ve learned to be playful with my anxieties. As Richard Rohr says:
“I have prayed for years for one good humiliation and day, and then I must watch my reaction to it.”
So, rather than chasing goals, striving for something other than what we have, I’m choosing playful inquiry into what is actually emerging within and around us. There is a paradox here; the more I absorb myself in curiosity and the more attention I pay to how the world is actually manifesting itself, the more I enjoy myself and so my agency and potential grows. Acceptance might feel passive but it’s not resignation. In reality, acceptance brings renewed energy and vitality to our experience of life.
Which means I can be content that, as I walk away from my desk and into the woods by my house, the snowdrops will soon be with us.
Each year, they appear; vibrant, profuse, beautiful, life-affirming and seemingly without goals.
Notes:
My opening quotation is from ‘Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life’ by Jungian psychoanalyst James Hollis where he explores how we transition when the prescribed roles of adulthood no longer work for us. Hollis is a prolific writer and lists his books on his website - it looks like there are some real treasures in there…
You might enjoy this lovely podcast by Krista Tippett, Parker Palmer and Courtney Martin, where Palmer gives his prescription for acceptance and radical action in organisations: “You need chutzpah and humility. You need the chutzpah to know that you have a voice worth speaking and things worth saying, and you need the humility to know that it’s vital to listen because you may not have it right at all or only a very partial grasp on the truth.”
Finally, as we experience the warmest January days on record, I notice my sadness and wonder if my attention to the beauty of the snowdrops will mobilise the energy I need to work ever more ecologically into the world.
