I caught myself overstating a slight case of anxiety by projecting forward and saying that I "regretted even signing up" for an event that is not even scheduled to take place until October of this year. The event is one of those long distance team relays where 12 or so individuals run or jog relatively short distances (5-10 miles each leg) for 28-36 hours and cover a seemingly impossible trek of 200 miles or so on foot. The event that I signed up for with 11 other people from work is the Bourbon Chase that meanders through the horse country of Kentucky. A quick ramble through the website indicates that this event will probably be a pretty good time. At the very least, there will be no excuse to not absolutely soak in the beautiful weather and scenery in one of the more lush and verdant areas of the country.
The context of my overstatement of regret is only marginally important. I was trying to empathize with someone who was expressing some level of anxiety about the prep work associated with the run and the way that some members of the team seemed to be taking what should be a relatively relaxed period of camaraderie (in my august opinion, of course) and turning it into a slightly more competitive event. The downside of my overstatement of future regret is that it was really not the truth. It's impossible to prophylactically regret something. That kind of thinking just defies logic. When I signed up for the event, I remember considering whether I really wanted to participate or not and coming to the conclusion that on this occasion, I was going to be the "Yes Man."
I should have told her the truth which was that I too was experiencing a degree of discomfort and anxiety about how the run-up to the event was being managed, but that I really do believe that the event shows a high degree of promise in turning into a really good time. That answer would have had the advantage of being aligned with the truth, and instead of feeding into both of our collective states of unrest, it stood a chance of calming both of our nerves and letting us get on about the business of preparing in the best way that we know how to prepare.
I should have known better, and I should have stuck with an assessment of the situation that was closer to the truth of the matter. I hang out with a group of people who are in the habit of reminding each other that often when facing and uncertain outcome, which as things turn out is really all of the time, one of the best ways to deal with uncertainty is to just "Do the next right thing."
Doing the next right thing is a really pragmatic philosophy. It does not require that I do the best thing or even pick the least worst option. What it does require is that I shrink my time horizon to a short enough future interval that the next right thing manifests itself as the obvious. It's easy to write but takes a great deal of discipline to accomplish. I failed to follow this sage advice when dealing with something as trivial as a race (a fun one at that) that is eight weeks in the future. I fell back into old habits and borrowed not only imagined trouble from the future, but I also returned with a regret for something that has not and may not ever occur. It's the height of ego to do something like that, and predictably, that thinking (and verbalizing an untruth) fed the negative energy of anxiety happening in the present.
A better solution would have been to shrink my time horizon to as short as the next breath, take that breath, and reevaluate the situation. I didn't have to do anything or say anything or be anything (even empathetic) at all. All the situation required, in that moment, was for me to be present, breath, and listen.
This same group of folks also is fond of reminding me that "Lessons have a tendency of being repeated until they are learned." I suspect that this observation has been proven out in this situation today. More practice and less exercise (particularly of my voice) is what's called for more often than not, and so I'll try (perhaps a little more deliberately) tomorrow.
Speaking of practice, I'm grateful for Osteria 777 (a restaurant with an ironic name...a very First World Problem) and the lovely evening they delivered for me and my bride of fourteen years (marriage...not age you dirty pervs).
The context of my overstatement of regret is only marginally important. I was trying to empathize with someone who was expressing some level of anxiety about the prep work associated with the run and the way that some members of the team seemed to be taking what should be a relatively relaxed period of camaraderie (in my august opinion, of course) and turning it into a slightly more competitive event. The downside of my overstatement of future regret is that it was really not the truth. It's impossible to prophylactically regret something. That kind of thinking just defies logic. When I signed up for the event, I remember considering whether I really wanted to participate or not and coming to the conclusion that on this occasion, I was going to be the "Yes Man."
I should have told her the truth which was that I too was experiencing a degree of discomfort and anxiety about how the run-up to the event was being managed, but that I really do believe that the event shows a high degree of promise in turning into a really good time. That answer would have had the advantage of being aligned with the truth, and instead of feeding into both of our collective states of unrest, it stood a chance of calming both of our nerves and letting us get on about the business of preparing in the best way that we know how to prepare.
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| Walk the Path that is Laid in front of You |
I should have known better, and I should have stuck with an assessment of the situation that was closer to the truth of the matter. I hang out with a group of people who are in the habit of reminding each other that often when facing and uncertain outcome, which as things turn out is really all of the time, one of the best ways to deal with uncertainty is to just "Do the next right thing."
Doing the next right thing is a really pragmatic philosophy. It does not require that I do the best thing or even pick the least worst option. What it does require is that I shrink my time horizon to a short enough future interval that the next right thing manifests itself as the obvious. It's easy to write but takes a great deal of discipline to accomplish. I failed to follow this sage advice when dealing with something as trivial as a race (a fun one at that) that is eight weeks in the future. I fell back into old habits and borrowed not only imagined trouble from the future, but I also returned with a regret for something that has not and may not ever occur. It's the height of ego to do something like that, and predictably, that thinking (and verbalizing an untruth) fed the negative energy of anxiety happening in the present.
A better solution would have been to shrink my time horizon to as short as the next breath, take that breath, and reevaluate the situation. I didn't have to do anything or say anything or be anything (even empathetic) at all. All the situation required, in that moment, was for me to be present, breath, and listen.
This same group of folks also is fond of reminding me that "Lessons have a tendency of being repeated until they are learned." I suspect that this observation has been proven out in this situation today. More practice and less exercise (particularly of my voice) is what's called for more often than not, and so I'll try (perhaps a little more deliberately) tomorrow.
Speaking of practice, I'm grateful for Osteria 777 (a restaurant with an ironic name...a very First World Problem) and the lovely evening they delivered for me and my bride of fourteen years (marriage...not age you dirty pervs).
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