THE BOLD: (There’s Never a Perfect Time To Start)
What is keeping you from starting on your important, inspiring, interesting, needed, delightful project? We can become paralyzed waiting for just the perfect opportunity. How do we know when it is time to jump? We must discover the pivot point between planning and action.
The Whisper: (What Am I Waiting For, Anyway?)
I have a problem. It’s a challenge I’ve faced since I was a little girl. It’s a challenge I faced the first time I encountered a down escalator and it’s a challenge that hasn’t subsided to this day.
I am an escalator perfectionist.
Imagine the scene. I’ve arrived at the airport. We, the passengers, disembark and amble in a slow moving herd through the long, window studded concourse, heading for the place where the lower ceiling signals the TSA check point. Along the way, members of the herd fall away—they check their cell phone, visit the facilities, stop for a coffee or the paper. We pass the poor souls who are ensnared by the security checkpoint waiting to enter the concourse. We are thankful that we don’t have to wait in that impossible line. We are thankful that there is nothing to stop us from leaving in a steady, somewhat bracing, clip.
Then, I see it. The down escalator. I will have to face the down escalator in order to arrive at the loading zone where my ride awaits. Either that, or I will have to walk a mile out of my way to seek out an elevator that will be slow and crowded with luggage and passengers (those, perhaps, who are likewise afflicted). You see, I hate the down escalator.
At the top of the escalator, I must face the relentless tide of tread after tread, presented for my use. I let the first one go, of course. I’m not properly lined up and I don’t have the lay of the land yet.
I let the next one go. It just doesn’t seem right, somehow.
Then the next one sneaks up on me and is gone before I can lower my hovering foot. No, not that one.
Or the next one. Or the next. Six treads in, I finally hazard the forward motion that commits my foot to the tread. I’m on the escalator.
Meanwhile, behind me, the herd is bunched up. Their patience is thin, worn threadbare by the indignities of modern air travel. They shift and crane their necks to try to identify the source of the pileup.
It’s me. The escalator perfectionist.
I know, intellectually, that all the treads are exactly the same. I know that I am only really justified in letting the first one go. After all, it would be foolish to commit only to find my foot on the dangerous jagged seam between two threads. What of the other five rejected treads? The justification for waiting tips quickly into the absurd.
Our lives are full of down escalators.
What is the sweet spot for action? Some say that we should just take massive action as soon as the impulse hits. There is merit to this idea. By taking action quickly, we can sometimes outrun our brains tireless efforts to protect us from taking risks. However, by taking precipitous action, we risk coming down on the jagged seam between things. Of course, if we survive the fall, there are lessons to be learned in these risky moments.
Some people advocate taking ample time to do the research and develop the perspective necessary to ensure success in our endeavor. Taking time to think, plot and research will allow us to build a plan that is more likely to bypass avoidable mistakes. However, once six treads have passed, it is more possible that you will never initiate the forward motion necessary to launch your project.
What, then, is the sweet spot between reckless, impulsive action and ponderous, paralyzing analysis? Perhaps it is tread two. Perhaps three.
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