It’s not what you think. And, honestly, I wish this confession were a little bit more scandalous, but at the base of every confession is a sense of guilt, and I feel guilty about this:
I like my 9-5 job. I feel really guilty about it, sometimes, too, because I am comfortable and happy and content for the most part. Of course, this is not at all to say I haven’t felt like sneaking off to the ladies’ room to cry in a fit of frustration or stress or because I had just listened to a really awesome TED Talk and am feeling particularly inspired. I feel guilty because I like walking into the office, knowing from where my paycheck is coming and where I’m going to go eat lunch and at what time I’ll be off, headed to the gym or to my apartment to drink wine on my rooftop and admire the view of the Puget Sound in the distance. I like stopping for a coffee at the same shop every morning at the same time; the baristas know my order, and – yes – I like it that way.
On the other hand, I feel guilty because I think sometimes I’m wasting time, sitting at a desk answering emails or scrolling through beauty blogs, when I have friends backpacking through Europe and teaching English to children in Vietnam and working for nonprofit organizations in Seattle. I’ve been in a state of restlessness as of late – at home and at work, in my perception of the present and of the future – and am feeling especially unsatisfied with things that, normally, are easy and comfortable. I am hardly the type of person to respond to a “how are you?” with anything other than a high-pitched, “good! how about you?”. It’s easy; it’s comfortable; it saves me time and it saves my inquisitor time. It’s a win-win type of response, really, if our measure of success is temporal. I responded to this question – “how are you?” – posed by my friend last week, with exactly this: “Fine. Actually, you know what? I feel weird. I’m in this place where I’m trying to figure out what I want to do for the rest of my life.” I expected him to react uncomfortably, but instead, he looked at me completely unfazed, and understanding, even. “You mean like what people try to do with their lives forever?” he asked me.
I laughed. Yes, exactly. Thank goodness I’m not the only one wrestling with this state of restlessness.
Instead of feeling guilty about being comfortable or feeling guilty that I’m not doing enough to change the world, I’m going to be thankful for the season in which I am currently residing in my life, and do everything I can to change my world, even if it isn’t on a scale as grand as the world. I’m going to be thankful for this restlessness, because it means that I am expectant of more. I am ready for bigger, prepared for better, but not so much so that I am blind to the work to be done here, today.
To be content, and not, simultaneously, can be draining. I can wallow and dream about everything I could be doing instead of going to work, earning a paycheck, eating lunch, exercising, drinking wine on my rooftop. Or, to be content and not simultaneously, can be driving. To be both content in the present and also dreaming of bigger is the best place to be. At this time, in this place, I can choose to feel guilty about where I am (mentally and physically), or I can choose to make small, day-to-day impacts, and continue to dream wildly. Thankfulness for the now, coupled with a hunger for bigger and better things, makes for one hell of a force to be reckoned with.
The Renovation Project 