The Pace of Becoming

There’s this Doechii song my sister and I talk about where she says, “I feel like I’m neglecting parts of my life.” I’ve always felt this way, but lately the feeling has become even more present. Maybe it has something to do with having various passions and the introduction of more responsibility. It could be that. But I’m quietly realizing that while my time could probably be managed better, and efficiency is important, I just don’t operate like a computer. I need downtime. I need to refresh before transitioning into the next task. Is that so wrong? Why does it feel like it is in today’s society?

Ambition is such a notable quality to have, but at least when it comes to me, I sometimes question whether it keeps me stagnant. I get frustrated when I leave an aspiration on the table, then become equally frustrated with myself when one of my goals haven’t been met yet. The progress ends up feeling slow, if there is any at all. And conflictingly, I know I’m not okay with that.

Maybe this is normal. Maybe life consists of all these different areas we desire to pour into—to reap the benefits of our toil, to enjoy the produce of our work. I recently read about this in the Bible, and it made me think about how strange it is that I can be so focused on producing that I forget to enjoy what has already been produced.

I think that’s what I’ve been doing. I’m so caught up in the output that I rarely feel like I’m actually enjoying the benefits of my effort. That every day feels like a pursuit, and I have yet to capture something.

Although, it just dawned on me: isn’t the day of capture usually just one particular day?

A graduation. A promotion. Reaching a weight-loss goal. Moving out of your parents’ house. Getting the job. Publishing the thing. Whatever it is, the moment we recognize as “I finally did it” is usually one day. But the years leading up to it are made up of hundreds of ordinary days that don’t necessarily feel like progress while you’re living them.

So maybe I’m minimizing my own effort while simultaneously stretching out the arrival date of my goals. I forget that life has seasons. Probably because I’ve spent years experiencing the same awakening every New Year’s—that my goals haven’t been met yet. Another year passes, and I measure myself against everything I thought I would have accomplished by now.

I also came across a video where the premise was that, for the majority of us, we overestimate what we can accomplish in a year and underestimate what can be accomplished in five. I think that’s where my problem lies.

That I could have five passions and only actively pursue two right now. That doesn’t mean the other three are dead. It doesn’t mean they’re failures. They’re simply not receiving my attention in this particular season.

I’m not so sure why I feel so much guilt in arriving at this seemingly sensible conclusion. I think I envision myself encompassing so many facets of who I could become that I forget that picking up a skill takes time to cultivate. Becoming good at something takes repetition. Building a life takes time.

And perhaps I’ve been so concerned with capitalizing on my time that I’ve forgotten that time itself is part of the process.

So I’m left with the question: What am I willing to wait for?

This feels so contrary to what society teaches us. It feels like we are expected to attain, and in it puts this pressure of needing to have it all–and to have it all now. Very seldomly do we think, I’ll put off the weight loss, the degree, the something else I want, without some residual feeling of guilt. But in true honesty of looking at the longevity of one’s life, it could be freeing to dismiss the social letdown of being slow, and maybe even less busy.

I think our minds would quiet and our bodies could breathe.