Every now and then I’ll randomly see something that for whatever reason takes up permanent residency in my brain. One such resident, who’s been with me for years, is the white spotted puffer fish (or Torquigener Albomaculosus, as he’s known down the pub).
I saw a nature documentary about how this little guy’s mating ritual was to create tiny indentations in the sand. These little sand prints culminated in huge and perfectly symmetrical patterns on the sea bed which would then attract a mate. These patterns were beautiful and vast and I was awe-struck by the sheer magnitude of this little Romeo’s canvas. A Michelangelo of the sea-bed.
Interestingly, his efforts were constantly at risk of being washed away by a sea change, at which point he would simply start again. All part of the process.
Was this yet another embarrassing example of one-nil to nature vs. humanity? How often do we really acknowledge or appreciate the small things we do? How much patience do we apply for the results we want? And how quickly do we become derailed if things don’t go according to plan?
In my therapy work with clients, there are often points in which they’ll observe how far they’ve come without realising. This is significant given that many start therapy expecting a quick fix, their first session frantic with the air of “Look, I showed up, can you do your thing quickly so I can make the 7pm train?!”. It takes a while before they can stand back and see the results of the personal canvas they’ve been adding to week-on-week, both in and outside of sessions.
We live in an overwhelming culture that seeks hacks, secret-formulas, and new innovations that promise maximum gains for minimal effort. When effort is required, it is likely to be glorified (breakout entrepreneurs who worked 24/7 and sold a kidney to pay rent, but look where they are now…) which only compounds the feeling that we aren’t achieving enough in comparison.
The truth is that every moment we are evolving, whether we recognise it or not. Every second of every minute we are making choices and forming experiences. Every moment we are making small dents in the sand.
This may sound romanticised. I mean, how much are we really contributing to life if we’re in our pyjamas watching Netflix? It certainly took me a long time to get my head around this. I would likely have compared all experiences equally against a measure of success or productivity, in which case any sofa time left me feeling like Homer Simpson.
But the truth is that every moment informs the next. This is what gets misunderstood in the lead-up to burnout. As cyclical creatures we are incapable of operating at only one speed indefinitely. We need reflective time as much as active time. We need rest to balance how much we rev the engine. Or we simply need time to grow into what we are to become.
Imagine there is something you want to make happen in your life yet it seems that time keeps passing and nothing changes. Let’s use the example of looking for a relationship. Let’s say that Clive (Clive is not real) wants to meet someone but has had some bad experiences, finds online dating depressing, and feels it’s impossible to meet someone IRL. Rather than confront a feeling of hopelessness and longing, or go out and face potential rejection, he stays at home in the comfort of the surroundings and circumstances he can control. I meet many clients who come to therapy after being Clive for a sustained amount of time, when the solitude is no longer as comforting as it once was. What they often don’t realise is that the commitment to addressing this as something they really want is actually that first dent in the sand. If this were Clive, his mating ritual would be a metaphorical sand-tapestry of both reflective and active work on his situation. Working to overcome his defences, defining what he wants/needs, making himself visible to those he wishes to attract, and enjoying the process of exploration and discovery without pressure or expectation along the way.
If the puffer-fish were to consider the magnitude of what he could achieve in relation to his size and the potential tidal obstacles he can’t predict or control, he surely wouldn’t bother. But instead, he shows up consistently with commitment to only one task - making small dents in the sand.
The key is in the surrender of not knowing what the outcome of our efforts will be. When we try to predict and control, we keep ourselves small with a closed mindset rooted in fear of failure. When we open our mind to the unknown, we take the pressure off - because if we accept that we don’t know how things will turn out, we can’t get it wrong! If we focus on the small things rather than the big wins, we’re free to achieve much more than we could ever have visualised.
So if you can’t see the big picture yet, it’s because you’re not supposed to. Your future is not possible to see from your point of reference, but you’re contributing to it every day. Just show up, trust the process, and make a few dents in the sand.
It’s Not What You Think
You don’t need to know the final result in order to be contributing to it.
The small incremental things are often the most monumental in hindsight.
Your life’s tapestry is unique to any other. No benchmark, no comparison.
You can never fully control or predict the future, and attempts to do so are what will keep you small and in a fear-driven mindset.
Everything you do, think and feel today is moving you towards the next moment. …And sometimes the next moment is meant to be galvanised by the frustration of the previous one! The key thing is what you choose to do next and appreciate that each day moves you forward in one way or another.
It Is What You Do
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