I learn a lot about people by observing what they don’t want to do.
And that observation includes me.
I have my own never-ending battle with wanting to do absolutely nothing—at least nothing uncomfortable, inconvenient, difficult, or disruptive to what I want.
And when it comes to what I do want? That can be even more revealing. It can become selfish and self-serving pretty quickly. This is what I want. This is what I planned. Nobody better get in my way.
Ryan Holiday’s The Obstacle Is the Way taught me something that has stayed with me. One of the basic ideas of Stoicism is that the obstacle isn't necessarily blocking the path.
The obstacle may be the path.
What are you resisting?
What are you afraid of?
What keeps making you uncomfortable?
What are you avoiding simply because you have the luxury of avoiding it?
Maybe that's exactly where you need to go.
I learned this through my fear of flying.
For years, flying created anxiety for me. The solution wasn't less flying. It was more flying. Then more flying. And then more flying.
Eventually, getting on an airplane became almost like getting on a bus. I'm not saying I particularly enjoy the bus ride, but flying has become part of my life—even for relatively short distances.
The fear didn't disappear because I successfully avoided it.
It lost its power because I stopped obeying it.
Being in recovery has taught me something similar.
I asked a sponsee the other day:
If you had enough money, no bills, and never needed to work again, would you?
At first, doing nothing sounds like heaven.
But would it be?
I think eventually the human mind and ego could turn that heaven into hell. Without purpose, responsibility, challenge, service, or something requiring us to get outside ourselves, we can become paralyzed.
We're like a boat that was built for the ocean but remains tied to the dock.
At first, the dock feels safe.
No storms.
No waves.
No risk.
But leave that boat there long enough and the water begins working against it. Moss grows underneath. The structure deteriorates. What was once protection eventually becomes decay.
A boat doesn't survive by avoiding the ocean it was built to navigate.
Neither do we.
Sometimes we have the luxury of avoiding things for years.
Our health.
Exercise.
The difficult conversation.
Helping someone when it's inconvenient.
Making amends.
Forgiving someone.
Asking for help.
Taking responsibility.
Changing careers.
Getting sober.
Facing fear.
Doing the work.
We tell ourselves, I'll deal with it eventually.
And because there isn't always an immediate consequence, we convince ourselves avoidance is working.
But avoidance charges interest.
Eventually, the things we refuse to face begin determining the boundaries of our lives.
So maybe one of the better questions I can ask myself isn't:
“What do I want to do today?”
Maybe it's:
“What don't I want to do?”
Because somewhere inside that answer may be the work I've been avoiding, the fear I've been feeding, the person I could be helping, the responsibility I've neglected—or the next place God is trying to take me.
Sometimes the obstacle isn't standing in your way.
Sometimes it's pointing the way.
