Choosing to Choose

From atop the mountain of one accomplishment, I gaze out at the next summit and hear the poet, Mary Oliver ask, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” and I pause, not knowing exactly which way to start. 

There are so many paths. On each of those paths are branches and cliffs and I know that there are only so many paths I can follow.

Up until now, the path has been laid out for me by necessity and desire. These are things that I wanted to do for certain and things that fortune laid in my lap and I could not refuse. But now my needs are satisfied and my desires are many. I can not choose them all.

Every day I am distracted by the paths I chose and those I do not.

I pick up the groceries, but ponder if I should have mopped; I grade the papers, but wonder if I should have talked.

Just walking into a room paralyzes me with the possibilities. Should I go through my necklaces, finish the book or paint the wall and which color: Green? Grey? Possibly wallpaper?

In the book, 4,000 Weeks, Oliver Burkeman told me that this is the challenge of life. It is not only making the choice, but knowing that by making that choice, you can not choose another. He says “the core challenge of managing our limited time isn’t about how to get everything done…but how to decide most wisely what not to do, and how to feel at peace about not doing it.” Some of those decisions bring me more peace than others. 

There are versions of me I am okay with never becoming: the CEO, the celebrity, the bus driver, the counselor, the Cross Fit enthusiast, but there are other versions I’m not yet ready to let go.

I wish I could try on several different lives like I try on dresses during an afternoon shopping session and decide which is best. I could put on the life of a fully at-home mom, or a fully at-work employee. I could be the volunteer that makes a difference or the sister that is more there.

And I know I could be some of these things, but I know that I can’t be all.

And the preacher in Ecclesiastes tells me, “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity” and he is probably right. 

There are millions of good ways to win at life and perhaps besides the obvious choices of what not to do, none of this matters much anyway, except that we tried to be a good person. 

I think I can do this. I can be a good person, generally speaking, but what distracts me most is the possibility of being my best version. Any of the paths will probably be fine, but the perfect path possibility is what is really distracting and paralyzing. 

But so is not choosing at all. So, I move forward: slowly, cautiously and with one eye back to the front of the trail, in case I need to go back and choose another. Maybe while I’m out here I’ll find peace in movement and faith that perhaps there are many good ways to be a good person and there is no one perfect path anyway.