Last Thanksgiving, I had the funniest conversation with an eight-year-old.
Luggage, packets of diapers, and shopping bags littered the floor between the bed and the door. For the holidays, our little family of three was staying with JJ's family in Miami for a few days. Traveling with a three-month-old had turned us into slobs, prioritizing function over form. Like having a stack of diapers in every nook and cranny we could find, you know, just in case, who cares if the room looked like the nearest baby store had exploded on top of our beds?
Despite the clutter, our niece Andrea's young energy found its way onto the little bit of clear floor space available. Just home from cheer practice, she danced and jumped around trying to make the baby laugh in his crib.
I couldn't help but laugh, as well. She was so great with the baby, so caring and interested. I asked her if she'd show us what she'd learned that day at practice, and she said:
"Sure, let me get my iPod so I can play our song. Whenever there's music on, I can't stand it. In a good way. I have to dance!"
And I have to admit, the girl's got moves. The music came on, and she danced her heart out for us—but she had already blown my mind.
I thought to myself, "To love something so much, so hard, from such a young age. How lucky is that?"
What's the one thing I can't stand?
It sounds like my eight-year-old niece has it all figured out. But what about me?
It's been almost three full months since I closed my business. It's been incredible to spend so much quality time with my little guy, but I can't help but feel an itch to work on something again. Some days, I think about it nonstop.
The problem is I can't quite figure out what that next thing is.
To be super honest with you, this process of exploring my next step has been somewhat excruciating. I've been dabbling in all sorts of stuff, which you may have noticed if you follow me on Instagram—photography, hand lettering, writing, etc. It's kind of my way of following this quote:
"You must understand the whole of life, not just one little part of it. That is why you must read, that is why you must look at the skies, that is why you must sing, and dance, and write poems, and suffer, and understand, for all that is life.”
— Jiddu Krishnamurti
So, how do I find what's next? How do I find the thing I can't stand not doing, like Andrea can't stand not dancing? What's occurred to me is to journal my process right here and see what happens: an unfiltered journal of what it's like to find the next thing. What do you think?
If that's super boring to you, I get it, no hard feelings. But if I hit on an awesome idea and become the next Oprah, you may be sad you didn't follow along ... just kidding! ... or not. :-)
Anyway, this means I'll be posting more often for a while—some posts short, some long, some boring, some exciting, some very personal, some not. I hope you'll enjoy following along, including the microstories to come, as well.
To infinity and beyond, yes?
PS. Thanks for reading day 18 of #100daysofmicrostories. :-)