The sun was setting but I barely noticed the light being siphoned from the walls.
I'd been moving quickly when I started reading one of Henrik Karlsson's recent essays, trying to squeeze it in before getting back to some work I still had to wrap up. However, my pace changed almost immediately when I realized that my eyes were darting from line to line instead of strolling from word to word. I actually went back to re-read the paragraph I was in the middle of. With a tiny shake, I cleared my head and focused.
Reading became staring and staring became glaring.
This was one of those times where someone says out loud the things you're scared to say in your own head. Henrik's words snapped me to attention. It felt like when you were a kid and a grown up would grab both of your shoulders, look at you sternly and say "I need you to pay attention to what I'm telling you." Except, this was gentle. And, you know, Henrik wasn't even talking to me—I was. It was me telling myself that this was important and that I should probably try to really absorb the ideas behind the words themselves.
"Am I repeating myself and becoming too conservative in what I allow myself to work on? Am I habitually doing what I had to do to get here, rather than looking clear-eyed at the possibilities that actually exist now?"
Those are his words, not mine. They could be, though; I think them often enough.
At some point I noticed the sun had actually set and I was sitting in the dark. Lit only by the small beacon of light effusing from my laptop, my mind wandered.
And I let it.
When do you know it's time to pivot? Do you wait for the compounding results to show up, or go off of immediate real-time feedback? Why?
If you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along. And if something stuck with you while reading, I'd love to know what it was.
onward.
For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here.