Anything & Everything

Growing up, I heard, “You can do anything!” And I’m grateful I did. What could be better than endless possibility? What could be better than ceaseless support? What could be better than other people’s belief in my unfettered potential?

Well, maybe one thing… a heavy dose of Reality. A follow-up statement that served to dilute the intensifying power of the Acquirer, which was taking root in my burgeoning ego. I wish this proclamation included a disclaimer that claimed: “But you can’t do everything.”

Absent the addition in my youth, I’ve had to learn my limits in adulthood. I’ve had to learn that I can’t necessarily be an Investor, a Coach, an Author, an Actor, a Filmmaker, a Fiancé, a Father, a Son, a Friend, a Brother, a Follower, and a Leader.

At least not all at the same time.

At least not perfectly.

I can perform all of these roles, to some degree.

I can embody each of these identities, at least partially.

But I can’t be each of these identities, simultaneously.

And no matter who I choose to be, I certainly won’t meet the standards of everybody.

Coming into full contact with this Reality has led to some beautiful self-discovery.

First & foremost, I’ve come to discover what I want to prioritize. Choosing who I will be is my decision after all. If I untie all the knots of expectations that I convince myself I am wrapped in, then I immediately see that I’m — at the very least — complicit in my shackling.

I begin to see that, from the beginning, I never wanted to be “anything”. I never wanted to be everything all at once. At any given stage of my life, I only ever want to be a few things.

If I surrender to absolute honesty, if I get quiet and let my True Self speak, then, even today, I realize that I don’t want to be everything.

• I don’t want to be an NBA All-Star, even though dunking ballers are who’s often featured on the “You can do anything!” motivational posters.

• I don’t want to be a politician, even though I used to dream of being President and still love watching The West Wing.

• I don’t want to be an Ironman, even though I love to run, bike, and swim, sometimes even sequentially.

I’m not interested in the daily demands that these endeavors would bring.

• At 5’11+3/4”, I would need to spend most of my waking hours in the driveway developing a long-range 3.

• With no political experience, I would need to — oh wait, experience doesn’t appear to be a prerequisite for getting elected in U.S. politics. However, hitting the campaign trail comes with the (gerrymandered) turf.

• Swimming, running, & biking those heroic distances would mean sweating for most of my day, which would cut in to my jump shot training & boots-on-the-ground campaigning.

It becomes a question of what I want to spend my days doing. Getting real about the demands that accompany a specific role help me understand what else the role is asking me to forego.

After all, I can only ever perform 1 task at a time. This means that I can only ever be servicing 1 identity at a time. Once I’m reminded of these limitations, then I understand what should pass through my Top Priorities filter.

What’s worth it to me?

I’ve come to learn that I only want to be a few things. And I’ve also come to learn that pursuing these is a possibility.

Second & easy-to-forget, when choosing who to be, it’s best if I don’t adopt external success metrics. Because no matter who I choose to be, I won’t be perfect at fulfilling the identity.

I will make mistakes.

I will have off days.

I will, most assuredly, miss.

And when I do, other people might not grant me my chosen identity. I might not live up to their expectations. Granted, they might be evaluating with an imperfect understanding. They won’t have clarity on my priorities, nor all of the roles I’m balancing. They won’t see the circumstances I’m facing, nor the environment I’m navigating.

Meanwhile, they might harbor ulterior motives. Others might want me to pursue perfection in the role from which they benefit. And of course they do. That’s only natural. And quite understandable.

But with a finite amount of time, attention, & energy, I’ve come to learn that racing around to service others’ expectations is frustrating, resentment-inducing, and, ultimately, exhausting. Because, as I anchor my self-worth to another person’s perception, I’m signaling to my True Self that he can’t be trusted. I’m confused inside my soul, as I treasure others’ incentivized & imperfectly-informed opinions more than my own.

Such is the case for self-confidence.

Such is the importance of formulating one’s own definition of success.

Metrics that account for all of my consciously-chosen identities.

Milestones that consider the full extent of my life’s priorities.

Third & counter-to-rational-progression, I’ve realized the importance of letting go. Letting go of these self-prescribed identities. Letting go of these self-assessed metrics for success.

Even though I created them, even though they got me to where I was yesterday, today I must let them go in order to move forward into tomorrow.

Holding on hinders my creativity and blinds me to new opportunity.

Eventually, I become a part of the changing nature of things. An ever-evolving identity. A continually-shifting collection of priorities.

Eventually, I begin to appreciate that I am not who I thought I would be.

Once the foundation is laid & the structure is sturdy, there comes a time when I must build without scaffolding.

To ascend skyward without the certainty that was previously supporting.

To continue ascending skyward, while standing atop a plot of land that, once, only offered endless possibility.

P.S. — this piece didn’t conclude how I expected at the beginning. But, then again, I guess that’s the lesson…

“I can write anything! But I won’t write what I initially expected.”

“I can write anything! But I won’t please everybody.“

“I can write anything! But I don’t want to write everything.”

“I can write anything! But I can’t write everything simultaneously & perfectly.”

“I can write anything! But I can’t write everything.”