You Get to Choose

Do So Wisely. Or Don't. Whatever. 🤷🏻‍♀️

The first and third Indiana Jones movies are the best. I will not be taking questions. Thank you.

While the first unquestionably holds a special place in my heart (I was 12, okay?), it’s that one quote from the third movie that nearly everyone knows, even if you’ve never seen it, that’s made its way firmly into popular culture.

If you don’t know the reference within the context of the movie, it doesn’t matter. You’ve almost definitely seen a gif or meme with it. It’s this one:

Photo credit: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/493636809126882375/

In the movie, this iconic phrase follows the signature face-melting and disintegration of the bad guy who’s been breaking laws and killing people while looking for the long lost treasure. In this case, the “Holy Grail”, which, naturally, leads to eternal life.

Which I kind of get.

Not the eternal-life thing, and not the law-breaking, people-killing thing, obviously, but the “Holy Grail”-seeking thing. There’s been a lot of activity around seeking and searching and finding and pursuing “your [insert favorite euphemism for ‘Holy Grail’ here]”.

Here’s the catch: What if you’re not exactly sure what your Holy Grail looks like? Which, SPOILER, is exactly what melts the bad guy in the movie, but I digress.

I get not being sure what I should be pursuing looks like, too.

And my question would be, “Why does it matter?”

Serious question.

I recently had a conversation with a twenty-something who had picked a direction in school and now, in their senior year, felt like that wasn’t the right choice anymore. They agonized over it.

In their mind, there were only two choices: the original one, which they knew they didn’t want, or vast nothingness. That they didn’t have a second choice or a backup plan or anything like that was devastating.

They had been going along with whatever seemed to sound good, like eight years earlier when a middle school guidance counselor basically said, “So what do you want to do with the rest of your life?”, and their friends were already doing that so it just seemed like the thing to do. But now they were sure this was NOT it and there was just an emptiness in its place. They were panicked.

I celebrated.

I pointed out how brave it was to recognize they were on the wrong path and were choosing to get off it. Excellent! Most of us don’t have the self-awareness, let alone the chutzpah, to do that.

My next question was,

“What would you like to try now?”

Because that’s what this whole thing is, I explained. A mega-cruise-ship-sized smorgasbord of “stuff” to try! Like “Who’s Line Is It Anyway?”, where everything’s made up and the points don’t matter. What’s next?

Photo by Saile Ilyas on Unsplash

Now the fact that my young friend is, in fact, young was not lost on me.

And, frankly, I felt a bit jealous. Or at least envious, that they were realizing at a young age that there were innumerable possibilities and options they could pursue. Wow. To have that kind of insight and courage at that age would have made a world of difference to me, I thought.

And the voice in my head (Not that one, the other one. The one that makes sense and looks out for me.) said why should it be any different now?

Which is an excellent question.

It feels like we’re all waking up at the same time to something generations before us didn’t — the possibility of pursuing hobbies or passions or desires we’ve always wanted to on a much larger scale than anyone previously thought was possible. At least, if previous generations woke up to it, none of those people were in my family.

Tons of people write about this, myself included. Having a great “Second Act”, doing more with the second half of our lives than just calcifying on the couch.

And I still keep getting this nagging feeling that some of you are stuck.

I get the sense you’re a lot like my young friend — freaked out that you don’t know what’s supposed to come next.

What comes next is whatever tf you want.

Especially now. I mean, what are you waiting for?

“It’s too late.” It’s not too late.

“I’m too old.” You’re not too old.

“It’s too risky.” Is it? I mean, what are you risking exactly?

Being reckless is unwise. But as my coach reminded me, calculated risks are okay. You’re smart enough to take calculated risks.

And you’re really too smart to be reckless, by the way. If you’re already worried something is “too risky” before you’ve even made a move, I don’t think recklessness is your problem.

So what if you don’t know what “following your passion” looks like right now?

Do you have to know exactly what the rest of your life is going to look like?

I guess you could, if you wanted to.

You could “do nothing,” where you pretend that everything is exactly the way it should be and nothing can ever change and you cement it all in place, at least in your mind. Nothing changes. Not your routine. Not your perspective. Not your opinion. Not the TV channel. Not your toothpaste. Not your coffee mug. In fact, the only reason you change your underwear is because you own 62 identical pairs of the ones you’re wearing, and that means it is absolutely NOT a change.

Or you could take the other approach, which is change everything so nothing changes. This is the cosmetics and plastic surgery approach, doing everything financially and humanly possible to make sure you never look any different so everything will be exactly the same.

If either of those approaches is what you choose, then awesome. I love that for you and I celebrate it. Truly.

Because choice is fundamentally what it’s all about.

And there are endless possibilities in the world now, with ridiculously easy access to resources where you can learn about the next thing.

Always wanted to learn to paint? Or sculpt? Or take amazing photographs?

Try it.

Maybe you’ve always wanted to take amazing photographs but only of sunsets. Fabulous! Do that. Try it.

Please don’t believe everything you do must be the means to some practical or tangible end.

I chose writing. My original plan was to be a freelance writer. I made some money doing it, too. But, nope, that wasn’t it. It still didn’t feel right. I kept writing, though, and I’m still working through it and I love exploring different aspects of it. Because it makes me happy.

Anne Lamott wrote something spectacularly piercing to my spirit in Bird by Bird:

“I still encourage anyone who feels at all compelled to write to do so. I just try to warn people who hope to get published that publication is not all it is cracked up to be. But writing is. Writing has so much to give, so much to teach, so many surprises. That thing you had to force yourself to do---the actual act of writing---turns out to be the best part. It's like discovering that while you thought you needed the tea ceremony for the caffeine, what you really needed was the tea ceremony. The act of writing turns out to be its own reward.”

When you choose to try something and that turns out to be its own reward, that’s how you know you’ve hit on something special. And you can keep doing that.

Or you can try something else.

The whole point is recognizing you have the freedom RIGHT NOW to try whatever excites you. You’re not chained to it forever.

Who cares what anyone else thinks? “Oh! What’s your new career NOW?”

Please.

It’s your life. It’s your choice. It’s your treasure you’re searching for.

And I’m fairly certain whatever you choose won’t melt your face off — unless it has something to do with actually melting things. Then I can’t promise it won’t happen.

But otherwise? Go for it.

Choose. Wisely or poorly. Choose what excites you because doing it is its own reward.

I’m cheering you on!

Photo by Jorge Zapata on Unsplash