Everything is Possible

I had a rough week. A rough two weeks. I called in sick to work today. I’m going to call in sick tomorrow, too. A few hours ago, I began writing a very different blog post to that effect — about how I was feeling and my thoughts on such things. However, I met with someone from the group that holds the monthly poetry readings I like to attend and read at. Arranging the meeting was very fun: it’s not something I would ever feel the will or comfort to do ordinarily. But I was there last week with my business partner, and I said, “We should ask to meet with him.” So I went up and asked him to meet. And he agreed. To perhaps nobody’s surprise, he was exceptionally nice and open about it. However, my partner, last-minute, couldn’t make it to the meeting we scheduled for today.

Thus, I met with him alone. It went very well. I wanted to talk to him about his involvement in this poetry group, his background, his experiences, the overall scene, and so on. I wouldn’t say he said or did anything “incredible.” Rather, he simply said things that left me with a feeling I would summarize as: “It’s possible to do literally all the things I want to do, I simply need people to go to these places with and present the ideas.” It’s a feeling of motivation and inspiration grand enough to turn my mood entirely around and reinvigorate me to the same degree as my Finland trip.

It also makes me feel strange. Why doesn’t anyone do anything? Why are people unreliable? Why are people untrustworthy? Because I’m thinking of who I could invite or talk to in order to do these various things. I am fully ready and willing to give my life to these projects. I went part time at work to do exactly that. Who else is willing to give a project like this their all? Finding more people feels impossible; though I don’t necessarily need more people.

The man I met with suggested some groups, events, and people to look into. I plan on involving myself in as much as I can, hopefully to meet further interesting people. I find it so fascinating how much I can do as an individual. Yes, I’ve done things in the past such as the writing group and reading group, but that is different from starting public events. Or an art gallery. Yet it’s all possible. It all feels possible. Specifically, it all feels possible and not difficult. All that is needed is a plan and motivation. I have both. I will display both.

This all has me thinking about other people and their ideas. How many people do I know who long for something? Who are missing something or wish to start something, “if only”? There are many — too many. I’ve learned very quickly that it really is not that difficult. It merely requires you to be willing to give it your all, like I said. And I mean all: dedication. It’s a lot of labor. It’s a lot of time. It’s a lot of energy. It involves people skills, confidence, and true creativity. It’s utterly daunting. But rather than seeing it as a mountain to climb, I would describe it as a puzzle to be solved. A challenge. The solution exists.

So, how do you start something? How do you accomplish something? Simply?— by doing it. I will offer counterintuitive advice by suggesting that the best way to ease the difficulty of these monumental tasks is engaging with more tasks. It works for me, somehow. When I hit a wall with one, I take a break by working on the other. That way, I never feel lost or stuck. I will also say, however, that you will get absolutely nowhere without time management skills. I follow a (flexible) schedule. But what’s important is that I know everything going on, always, consolidated in a single calendar for the likes of work, friends, personal interests, groups, etc. I don’t know how people survive without such a calendar (an improper calendar is why my friend forgot about our meetings those two times).

And, as I recently wrote about, life happens one step at a time. You don’t become an expert at something without first knowing nothing. You don’t become comfortable with something without first being uncomfortable. You don’t become experienced without first having never done. These things should be obvious. We all had our “firsts.” I took my first photo. I wrote my first story. I wrote my first poem. I wrote my first blog post. I shared my first ones. I was terribly scared and uncomfortable. And now I do it daily. It takes time and — more importantly — consistency. I’ll reiterate because this is important: I didn’t speak Icelandic last year. Now I do. That didn’t happen overnight. Nothing did. Be patient with yourself, and be consistent. That’s all it takes. That’s how I went from being anti-social with no social skills to this life I now live in one year: I started; I patiently continued, consistently; and I accomplished. The end. It wasn’t easy. It was painful — sometimes unbearably so — at times. But I persisted with the knowledge that I’ll get there in the end. And in the end, I always did get there.

I’m no expert on any of these things. Nor would I say the words I’m writing here have any weight or significance. I’m merely describing my personal experiences and lessons. There is beauty in that, too, because I’m just one person. Take that as a reason to meet people, learn about their stories, and see what did and did not work for them — how they ended up where they are in life. If someone is interesting or inspirational, then talk to them. Maybe they don’t want to. Or maybe they would love to. You’ll find out by asking… by doing.

I’ll conclude with an excerpt from my most recent story:

Not everyone leads an interesting life. How I dreaded the subvestibules of Skief. How every breathing being was engaged in the filthiest of dealings. The way they spoke and interacted. And how I loved that feeling. I loved the feeling of dreading that place because it made me ask the question: “Why?” Like on the white beaches of Trossa. How the people there found joy in lying before the orange sun, reading the latest and dimwittedest releases. Sipping away their days in ecstasy.

It made me feel vile. And that made me feel fascinated. “How can these people find joy and pleasure in this?” I asked myself. Perhaps some might call them simpletons, others boring. Yet these baskers were perfectly content with their place in this world. “Why?” What a beautiful mystery to unravel.

My intention was to capture the idea that there are two sides to everything. It’s all about how you approach life. You can approach it with an open, curious mind, or you can be closed and set in your ways. You can say, “This person is a fool,” and, “This task is impossible,” or you can say, “I wonder why I think this person is a fool,” and, “I wonder why this task feels impossible.”

And one more time, just because I think it’s so important, everyone starts somewhere. Everyone also starts some time. That time can be now and that where could not matter less. Let it be here and now, as you are, right now. You will fail. You will learn. You will try again. And you will some day succeed.