Words mean a lot to me. Perhaps more as I age. I value the meaning of the words we choose and use. People who know me well understand that certain words set me off. My bans on "busy", "when I retire…", "stability" are well documented.
I push myself, and others who will listen, to "play out of bounds" and to not compromise our dreams. Why are we not pursuing what is most important to us? What obstacles prevent us to live the life we want? Am I where I am supposed to be? Are our networks diverse or a bunch of people who are clones –eating, voting, entertaining, agreeing, liking, the same stuff?
My goal is to disrupt the mindlessness of our lives. Where we accept and tolerate what we have and don't want.
I was conducting a session with graduate students about career transitions and got this question: "How long should I be uncomfortable?" It was a great question. Because it was honest. It was a vulnerable question. It was a question about the searching and certainty. After all when you are grad school procrastinating your future :), you think a lot about the land of career clarity. If we are contemplating change in our lives, if we are paying attention to the world around us, we all are trying to get to this mystical land of clarity.
When we are open to what we don't know, when we are open to opportunities that we had not considered, when we become vulnerable to questions and conversations that change us—-we get uncomfortable.
Comfort the Afflicted and Afflict the Comfortable. F. Peter Dunne
Perhaps my theme song! And definitely my favorite quote.
In other words, I am not where I want to be. I am not sure where I am going. I feel stuck or I crave more certainty about my path. I want more meaning, fulfillment and a greater sense of purpose. I need an answer to give me comfort.
So here's my answer:
You should never be comfortable. Never.
In terms of life and career development.
Yes, we should smell the roses, appreciate our milestones and yes let's have gratitude.
But before we get too caught up in our greatness, drunk with our achievements, and light headed with thankfulness–let's consider the infinite challenge of serving others. Let's pause and consider our ambitions for our families and ourselves. Let's truly understand that we are not satisfied with our inner or outer lives. So stability is a joke. Certainty is a unicorn.
How do you continuously pursue your own growth and that means your ability to help others?
You can join the growing NIMBY family or what I call the OIMBY tribe (Only In My Backyard)–where you take care of your immediate family and everyone else is on their own.
We have to be uncomfortable with our comfort.
We now face the danger, which in the past has been the most destructive to the humans: Success, plenty, comfort and ever-increasing leisure. No dynamic people has ever survived these dangers.
The status quo sucks! Am I right? The world is not quite right. We are still filling out the breadth of our potential. Our families are a work in progress. Our communities are in great need. The world is at the brink of challenge and change.
When we stop and think about what we can do, what we have to advance our lives and the lives of others, and consider the obscene abundance in which we reside—-We can get uncomfortable. 🙂
Once you accept that our work is infinite. That our role is to advance the work and give the next gen a chance to continue the work. That can give you a modicum of comfort. But then you realize, as I do everyday, life is short. We don't know when our ticket will be punched. So what will I do today?
Don't misunderstand me. Lack of comfort is not lack of peace. Inner peace comes with understanding one's role and opportunity. Inner peace comes with serving others. True peace is the product of an altruistic life of compassion. And compassion literally means to suffer with others. So we come full circle to an uncomfortable peace.
Our truth stands in the doorways in front of us, doorways that excite, invite, and frighten us.
Have I afflicted you?
Here's to your uncomfortable peace. Thanks for reading. John
A poem I wrote inspired by these thoughts: