If you know me, then you know I love poet Mary Oliver with the entirety of my soul. But. Where I once found her iconic line, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” inspiring, I now find it paralyzing. Not her fault, but the pressure I feel from that line makes me want to lie down and sink slowly into the ground.
It’s the expectation–the expectation that you must do something extraordinary, that you must make the most of your talents, your gifts, and that you must leave a legacy. I realized during one especially long, dark night of the soul that I have been charting my course by that line and therefore absolutely unable to make a decision or choose a path.
The result? The path chooses you and you’re left reacting to the scenery, wondering if you’re lost. You know what? I am. I am lost. I’ve found myself in the middle of the field with a faulty compass. The solution? I don’t know. I guess I just sit here for a while, watching the sun.