Over the course of the past four years, I have chosen a "Word of the Year" to carry me as a theme. This year's word has been "Aware." I haven't written much on this word this year in comparison to other words for other years. I think the reason for this, at least partially, is that this year has been unbelievably eventful. I left OSH, moved back to East Tennessee into my parents' home, took a new job in community mental healthcare, and started dating a really amazing woman.
Through it all, I've chosen to practice simply being "aware" rather than writing and reflecting on it all. My past "Words of the Year" have required me to think through and process how they interact with my daily life. This concept of being "aware," however, has required something quite different. It has required the discipline of action.
I like to think of myself as an intellectual. If if interests me, you can bet I'll spend hours diving to the depths of rabbit holes and tangents. On the positive side of this quirk, this often means I can approach things rationally. I think through possibilities, evaluate outcomes, and decide things based on the long period of time it takes me to reach conclusions. On the negative side, however, I am often paralyzed with inability to act. I assume there is more information to gather, more to be learned, more knowledge to be gleaned. Action is to be taken only after you've thought something through thoroughly.
Or so I have believed.
This year, through my "Word of the Year," I've come to realize that sometimes you just have to practice. You can't always wait to perfect something in your mind before you put it into practice in your life.
I'm coming to realize that my obsession with "figuring things out" is often derived from a state of fear. I worry to no end that I will be found lacking in some way if I don't have the proper response to a situation. I fear being seen as inadequate if I don't have all the information gathered so I can make the "best" decision. What I'm coming to realize, however, is that sometimes things just can't be perfect; but that doesn't make it bad.
I forget the reference, but I was once told to accept, and even love, the cracked and tattered portions of life, because "that's how the light gets in." What I believe this phrase is getting at is that there is a beauty in the imperfections. There is a grace and glory in our flawed efforts to love and be loved.
I am learning that my stalled action in life, stemming from fear of failure, limits me in my ability to experience the full beauty of those imperfect moments. So I'm learning to act. I'm learning to lean into simply being aware in the moment I'm in and actually practicing the art of being present. I don't have to have it figured out in my head first and be paralyzed with fear in the meantime. I can step out in faith and trust and act boldly.
So here's to continuing my practice. Here's to failing and falling and getting up to try again. And here's to basking in the light that comes through in those imperfect moments.
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