Snow—from my office window everywhere I look white and stark or brown and weathered meets my eye. The contrast pleasing but I feel estranged, isolated in my office garret. And I’ve been thinking…
On CBS Sunday Morning yesterday, in a piece on Dustin Hoffman, Hoffman mentioned he never intended to be an actor. His dream was to be a jazz musician. He has become a very successful actor, struggled through rejection and criticism to do it. He said, even now, he would kill to be a jazz musician. His word struck a chord.
We’re all given a treasure chest full of talents. Through the years we use them under various means and circumstances—some thrust upon us by life, finances, timing. Some we capitalize on in hopes of success. Mostly we make the best of things. Sometimes, we succeed beyond our wildest dreams and hopes. Sometimes, we do something; decide something that sets a path along a road we never intended to go.
Most people look back and wonder, maybe even grieve about that path not taken. That is human nature. They may regret what they did instead of what they intended. One always wonders if things would have turned out better.
A lot of self-help books encourage us to find that thing we dreamed of and reach for it again. A great idea, but in the process I say, honor the plan B life you’ve had. Think back—remember why decisions were made, realize you were making choices because of many outside influences. Honor your choices. Hind sight is a different perspective. Remember you made your choice because of what you knew at the time.
Life does not have to follow your carefully thought out plan to be great. Think of all you would have missed—beautiful, wonderful, unplanned things that slipped into your life you would have missed if things had gone according to plan.
And if you’ve decided to pursue your waylaid, set aside dream of writing—wonderful. Be thankful because every minute of your plan B life can be used to fuel, contribute, enhance your writing. Nothing you’ve done, learned, experienced needs go to waste. Grab all the stuff you’ve gone through and use it for fodder—you just can’t make that stuff up.
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