Today, I hung out with Boulder’s newest transplant, Charlie. We walked in circles around the Boulder Creek Path for two hours, commiserating in our confusion and fear and, simultaneously, sharing our hope and renewed sense of purpose. One statement produced twenty corresponding thoughts which produced dozens more. What a balm – connective, effortless conversation. Suddenly, I don’t feel so alone.
Charlie was open and honest. He said that 90% of his days he wakes up thinking: what am I doing? What was I thinking – trying to change my entire life at once? Am I in the right place? The other 10% he feels assured and confident: I am exactly where I need to be. Everything is going according to plan; I just need to be patient. He says that two factors determine the type of day he has: (1) making meaningful connections with people, and (2) creating something, anything, beautiful. I try to think of the beautiful things I have created recently; I am embarrassed by how little creation I have done. I vow to change this.
Still, this state of minimal creation is okay. Charlie mentioned how rich this time is, even though it sometimes feels like a whole lot of nothing, a bunch of sitting around. He thinks he’ll look back on this era and reflect on how critical it was to his eventual success. “We are amassing data, information, ideas. We are testing hypotheses and trying things out and failing and recalibrating,” he assures me. I remember what another friend, Sam, said about this time in my life, daring to call it a “luxury.” Despite my initial resistance (what’s luxurious about living off of food stamps?!), I surrender to this notion. My lack of commitments, my freedom to try new things and follow my passions and make mistakes – these are indeed luxurious. I pop them in my mouth and wrap my tongue around them, savoring their sweetness.
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