The Counterintuitive Retreat
I do some work as a journalist for a ghostwriting company. This entails interviewing authors for twelve to twenty hours over a series of weeks, and then handing my research over to a ghostwriter who writes the book.
Hiring a ghostwriter is costly; about $1/word, so a 200-page book would cost about $50,000. Those who choose this option are usually financially comfortable and quite busy. As such, a lot of them prefer to talk about their experiences rather than put pen to paper themselves.
On the day of this very writing I’m composing right now, I was all set to begin with a new author, Lucy. Former Army veteran Lucy, grew up in the streets of a bustling city with four brothers jostling her along, and parlayed that grit into a thriving business and speaking career. There’d been a few starts and stops in the book process due to work and scheduling issues. So today I logged-on enthusiastically for our first interview.
Lucy popped-on.
A beautiful, bright-eyed woman, who’d seen some things in her lifetime – she spoke calmly: “Sorry to do this to you Marcy, but the project is on hold indefinitely. I just found out five minutes ago that I’ve been laid off from my VP position.”
I graciously ended the call to allow Lucy to have some privacy and time to process this change. I didn’t know her personally, but I’d memorized her book outline in preparation for our interviews. I understood some of the challenges she’d faced as a woman in male-dominated fields. I admired the research she’d put together to support what she had to say.
She’d experienced so much change in her 40+ years. She looked glossy and put together on the outside, but I suspected that many of her victories had been hard-won. I wondered at the internal toll.
This made me ponder. What do we do when we experience a string of difficulties or set-backs in life? When we feel like we’re constantly pushing a stone uphill?
Afterall, we all have goals. And, we’re certain that what we want is what we need at the moment. We’ve been trained to believe that only the weak give up; that when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Yet, at times, it would seem that the universe (or insert your favourite higher power here) seems to quite clearly communicate to us that this is not our time, despite how badly we may want something.
John D. Rockefeller said, “I do not think that there is any other quality so essential to success of any kind as the quality of perseverance. It overcomes almost everything, even nature.”
My question to you, dear writer, is do we want to “overcome everything,” including nature? Or perhaps, do we injure ourselves by continuing to push when the path is so obviously obstructed and indicating redirection?
Although I don’t believe in quitting at the first sign of resistance, I wonder how much of our precious time and energy are wasted when we might better be served by contemplating an alternative way to look at a problem. Let’s face it, we are a society of “fixers.” There’s pride in the fixing; rising to the challenge is glorified, while retreating into quiet contemplation and analysis looks weak.
Despite this, it seems that lessons learned in contemplation are the ones with the most lasting effect, and also provide deeper fodder for our writing and analysis of the world. I would even argue that taking an emotional and intellectual time-out is a form of self care. The Open University (open.ac.uk) supports this belief:
Reflecting helps you to develop your skills and review their effectiveness, rather than just carry on doing things as you have always done them. It is about questioning, in a positive way, what you do and why you do it and then deciding whether there is a better, or more efficient, way of doing it in the future.
My breath was taken away recently when I came across this exact type of reflection in one of our writer’s manuscripts. She wrote: “My biggest fear with a cancer diagnosis was not the treatment - it was the fear that I wouldn’t learn the lesson that the diagnosis had to teach me.”
In our health journeys, in our writing, in our work, in our personal relationships, and in our personal goals, I believe that our true strength is recognizing when to dig-in and push, and when to relent or change course.
Roland Merullo writes, in Breakfast With Buddha:
You ask a certain question again and again, in a sincere fashion, and the answer appears. But, in my experience, at least, that answer arrives according to its own mysterious celestial timing, and often in disguise. And it comes in a way you're not prepared for, or don't want, or can't at first, accept.
So, although adopting a holding pattern may seem counterintuitive to reaching your goals, I suggest that you try it the next time you’re hit with something hard. Sit with it, and ask what you’re meant to learn from it. The lesson may just be to get up and work harder, or the signpost may indicate a change in direction.
For my part, I always say, feed your soul. Take the route that supports who you want to be at your core; another page in your personal legacy of grace. Taking action doesn’t always mean that we’ve got to get in the ring and start duking it out. Sometimes the most optimal solutions come with contemplation and analysis; and when that’s complete, the next step reveals itself.
