Ambition Anonymous: an addict’s fortunate fall from academia

Seasons don’t change immediately. They slip and slide into each other: Not quite sure whether to go forward, winter melts into fall again. Yearning for the past, spring won’t let the grass grow. In South Dakota, May has had us shoveling snow when we’re expecting bouquets of flowers. In nature, change isn’t usually abrupt, but gradual. As a student, my seasons were always neatly cut off by school schedules— Each class had a concrete ending that marked the beginning of a new season. After college graduation, my brain was still in student mode. All my life my identity had been entwined with school. Even without a class, I was constantly trying to produce, to have something to show for each day, to justify my existence even if only to myself. I longed for the busyness I had in college, I had lost the ability to be still. Don’t get me wrong, I think education is a wonderful thing and I feel very fortunate to have attended great schools, but somewhere in there I began to believe my worth depended on my productivity. I felt lazy without some academic project, even while I was working long days on the ranch. This production mindset also zapped my creativity. I couldn’t let God speak to me, or be inspired with all these thoughts suffocating my brain.

But slowly, I began to feel the magic of everyday life. I felt God saying even if I didn’t do another thing on this earth, He would value me all the same. My goals changed from a distant degree to silently enjoying a cup of coffee, singing to God while herding cattle, enjoying a book without looking for something I could use in an essay, and really listening to people talk without trying to gain something from them. Life became so much more meaningful when I stopped trying so hard to create a meaningful life. Honestly I found just as much joy eating some sunflower seeds I had packed in my saddlebag on a long ride, or reading a morning Psalm as I did walking across a stage to get my diploma. (hope that helps seniors)

It took me a long time to get off the oh so very seductive success treadmill. Honestly, I still get on it from time to time— Running towards an empty idea of success, losing touch with the small moments that give life meaning. But that’s okay too. Change takes time. We cannot expect ourselves to adapt instantly. They say it’s finally spring but I know it’s going to backslide into winter here pretty soon.

So hey, while you have all this time, get off the treadmill. Embrace the fact that you are infinitely valuable even if you don’t do one more “successful” thing. And don’t think too hard about that book you think you should be writing.