The other night I had a dream in which I was in a ladies room somewhere when an acquaintance walked in and asked if session started at nine or nine-thirty, and it was a few minutes to nine already. I was suddenly reminded that I was supposed to go to my college class but didn’t know where I was supposed to go. I started digging through my bag for my schedule. Not only did I not have a binder or schedule of any kind, but my bag was ripped and everything was falling out. I tried to put all of the smaller items into side pockets of the bag, then frantically went on my phone to see if I could go online to find info about where my class was. That’s when I woke up.
I’ve often had dreams in which I’m back in school and I don’t know where I’m supposed to go. I think this is a different form of stress dream than the ones in which I’m driving and suddenly am in complete darkness. In the latter, I am completely out of control and just have to take it on faith and intuition that I won’t crash and die, even though that seems inevitable and I always wake up just before that happens. The school dreams, I think, reveal a theme of not being prepared.
Last week I forgot to write a blog post. It’s not that I didn’t feel like it or that I was too busy. I just completely forgot. I’ve lately been taking it kind of easy as far as not making myself feel guilty for not writing or drawing or painting as much as I “should.” I say “should” because I really do feel the need to hone a skill and uncover what type of thing I’d like to be doing on the side. I don’t want to work my day job forever, and it’s time I started overlapping into something. I’ve been saying this for too long, and that’s where the guilt over not producing my own work comes in.
But I gave myself the excuse that it’s December and there’s a lot of holiday business to be done, as well as simply relaxing and enjoying the season. I took up a crochet project, which I worked on while watching Christmas movies on my day off. I didn’t let myself feel guilty about this.
However, I fear that I’ve settled into complacency. I gave myself a little too much permission to slack off. It’s not that I don’t care; the symptom isn’t apathy. It’s that I’ve let myself get comfortable with less. Complacency is a silent symptom that creeps in when things are good. You’re happy and comfortable. A little discomfort is sometimes needed to keep you driven.
I think the difference between apathy and complacency is this: apathy is not caring whether the sun is rising or setting because a general malaise of dissatisfaction has made you give up on being driven. Complacency is being equally delighted with the sunrise and sunset to the point that you’re just floating through a sea of “isn’t that nice?” and forgetting that you have an itch to scratch. You’re too busy smelling the flowers to remember that there are things you ought to do to keep you moving forward.
“When it is rose leaves all the way, we soon become drowsy; thorns are necessary to wake us.” John A. Shedd
I’m grateful to be in a place in my life in which I’m content. I’m very blessed, and I think this is a fine place for anyone to be in life if they are so fortunate—especially if it is with an attitude of gratefulness. However, it can be tempting to be content with mediocrity. I was brought up believing that it is a virtue to strive for excellence. While worry and guilt are poor motivators, you are responsible for your own success. Don’t expect success if you don’t prepare for it.
A little while back I got a fortune cookie with what I believe is a quote from John Shedd: “A ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not why ships are built.” I want another thing he said to be true of me: “Fate whispers to the warrior ‘You cannot withstand the storm,’ and the warrior whispers back, ‘I am the storm.’”
I don’t want to be content to be a ship in port. I want to be the freaking storm.
