When life starts passing you by, what to do
Hey -- Kristy here.
It's been a while since we've talked. I hope you're well. What a crazy year it's been.
What's new with me? A couple of things...
1) a pie-baking and peloton-riding obsession (which basically cancels each other out, right?)
2) a new YouTube channel!
To be honest with you, a few months before COVID hit, I was starting to feel like life was passing me by. So when we went into quarantine, I had all the time in the world to figure out why.
What I found was that we start to feel like life is passing us by when we are standing still, stagnant. To gain clarity, it's helpful to ask the right questions.
Here's where I started:
-- What areas of my life do I feel left behind, and what actions can I take?
-- Have I not taken action previously because I need something first? (training, information, gear, etc) If yes, create a plan to obtain it, and set a start date.
-- Or have I not taken action because I'm afraid?
Often we're afraid to take action because we're waiting to be sure -- sure we're ready, sure we'll be successful, sure we won't get our heart broken. But the truth is that because the future is unknown, we can never be 100% sure.
Stoic philosopher, Seneca, perfectly summed this up in his essay On the Shortness of Life.
“Putting things off is the biggest waste of life: it snatches away each day as it comes, and denies us the present by promising the future. The greatest obstacle to living is expectancy, which hangs upon tomorrow and loses today. You are arranging what lies in Fortune’s control, and abandoning what lies in yours. The whole future lies in uncertainty: live immediately.”
What emerged for me was that I needed to act to start my family (Andrew and I started IVF), I started writing my memoir about risk & love (I'm 40% done with the first draft, HOLY BALLS!), and I launched a new YouTube channel (personal stories about philosophy, connection, risk, and leading a meaningful life). If that sounds interesting to you, you can subscribe here.
Until next time,
Kristy