After Thoughts
When I first moved out here to Virginia — somewhat suddenly, with a car full of my clothes and a few necessities — I really had no idea what my plans were going to look like for the near future.
Or even an idea of my distant future.
See, I’ve always stumbled over setting goals for myself — I think I’m decisive and level-headed enough to make good decisions in the moment, but the thought of deciding what my future self might want really trips me up.
I’d like to think I evolve as I move along. That I get better than my old self.
I don’t mind failing as much now — sure, I don’t want to consistently fuck up, but I’ve made enough mistakes (some *really* colossal ones, at that) to know that moving on from them is where we really learn about ourselves.
I mentioned it in a previous post, but I’m adopting a new kind of goal-setting for myself. Rather, I’m only looking ahead to the near future. I don’t need to plan and map out every step of my journey, I don’t need to know where my finish line is. I don’t need to know every twist and corner and obstacle.
This is not a race.
THIS IS NOT A RACE. It can’t be, because we don’t know an endpoint or a timeline. But, man, do we get hung up on getting there faster.
When I first moved out here, my dad had started prepping for the arrival of chickens that he had ordered. (It cracks me up that you can order and purchase chickens, and they come in a box to the post office. Just like any other thing you order off of the internet.) He’d built a coop for them with my brother, and when my sister visited, she helped him with the fence for the area around the coop.
Dad hadn’t ever built a chicken coop before. Or raised laying hens. Watching his progress on this project — completing the fence; any adjustments that he’s had to make to the fence; the supplies that he’s had to pick up before the chicks arrived — it’s been super tangible proof that we can have a grand idea and still make mistakes and modifications on our way towards the finish line.
The other day we had what Southerners might call “some weather” — it’s been stormy and windy. The gate that led into the coop area had come off of its hinges and was lying on the ground now.
I was so disappointed for him — he’d spent time and energy working on it.
But the next day, he went to the hardware store, and went to work building a better entrance. Once that could hold up when it got stormy again.
He didn’t change the direction of the project or completely scrap his plans for it. He just made it better.
I guess I’d forgotten that we *can* still learn from our parents.
Originally published at www.thisisrachelwinstead.com.
