It’s Not The Grasp, It's The Reach

How I measure and how I fail

There’s an outsized value placed on the things we can grasp, that we can claim. The outward success of a life in our society is expressed in measurable results. For a baseball player, it’s a batting average. For an actor, it’s Oscar wins. For a novelist, it’s number of weeks on the bestseller list. I could go on, but I’m sure you’re keenly aware of the metric in your life. If you’re not, and you participate in capitalism at any level, it’s the balance in your checking account. No one gets credit for their attempts, for their reach.

When I conduct an inventory of my life, the reach-to-grasp ratio puts me clearly in the red. So why do I keep reaching? Why do I keep publishing? Why do I keep recording? In the past, when I’ve found myself circling these questions, many times I’ve quit. I didn’t hold a press conference. There was no one there to notice or acknowledge my quitting. It was what the kids today call quiet quitting. It’s what you do when you see the brass ring hanging there coyly in the distance but… [pauses to look up the origin of the brass ring metaphor - something, something game with riders on a carousel in the 1800’s. Well that’s disappointing.] Never mind the ring, let’s move on.

I’ve learned that when I succumb to this all-or-nothing kind of thinking about my creative work, it means my tank is empty. I’ve been pushing, no, grasping— not reaching. There is a difference.

When I’m grasping, I’m looking at the unsold copies of my recently published novel, or my current subscriber count, or likes, or comments, or reviews or god forbid, the number of people who stream my music on Spotify. The modern world offers me a multitude of dashboards to celebrate my inadequacies. Without fail, when I measure, I fall short. Is there another result of measuring?

Reaching is something far different. When I’m reaching, I’m doing the thing, not talking about the thing or promoting the thing or posing with the thing— ugh. Reaching is connecting with the source of inspiration and riding that flow, it’s connecting with myself and what brings me joy. It’s connecting with others to celebrate their work. When I’m reaching I’m not asking ‘what’s left?’ I’m asking ‘what’s next?’

So, why am I sharing all this with you? It would be far better marketing to post a bunch of puffery about my accomplishments, my growth, what I’ve learned, and most importantly, how I can teach you to be as awesome as me. I would be telling you all about how I’m living my best life. But that would probably just make you feel empty, right? And, it would be more fiction and I already give you enough of that. At least that fiction is honest and intended to entertain, not make you feel unworthy so you will follow me in hopes of making all your dreams come true.

The truth is that it’s a struggle. It’s always a damned struggle. But you know that. You can have time or you can have money. You can have freedom or you can have security. When I get depressed, I see everything as a binary. Everything is black or white. Why else would we quit a thing unless it was clearly a stark choice. The truth is that everything is a soft gradient and we all fall somewhere on that spectrum of light, even if you can’t see it, especially if you can’t see it.

This post, like a few I’ve written in the past, serves as a periodic reminder to myself that my value is more than my numbers. It’s even more than the work I create. My value, like your value is how I walk through the world and how I treat other people. Do my kids feel loved? Do my parents feel loved? Does my partner feel loved? Do I smile at strangers when I pass them in the park? Do I respond to everyone kind enough to comment on my work? Do I say hi to people on the elevator? Okay, I don’t often do that because I’m hopelessly awkward, but you get the the idea, I hope. By all these measurements, I think I’m a smashing success.

There are two prescriptions I take when I’m feeling like quitting it all. One is music. Playing and listening to music is the best way to mainline endorphins. There’s something music can do that nothing else can because it moves through our bodies, not just our minds. I realized the other day that I’ve gone almost three months without picking up my guitar and playing a song. I will endeavor to change that. The second prescription is nature. When I go too long without a walk in the woods, a nap in the grass, or a think under a tree, I feel myself becoming anemic. It’s been over a year since my last camping trip. As the fall weather blows some blessedly cool air into Georgia, I will endeavor to change that too.

So, that’s it for this week. No great wisdom or entertainment. I’m about to start a full-time job on Monday after a couple of years of being in the wind and I’m nervous. I’m nervous they’ll recognize me as the imposter I am in the world of business. I’m worried I will have no energy or time left to pursue my writing and that all my efforts for the past two years will slide into the abyss. I know that’s silly, but it’s a fear nonetheless. No matter how many transitions I’ve powered through in my life, they’re still really hard.

How do you measure?

If you’ve read this far, thank you. I hope you got something out of it. If you feel like it, jump into the comments and share the ways you measure yourself and how that helps or hurts you. What helps you recharge? The best thing about the comments is that a lot of people much smarter, kinder, and cooler than me typically jump into the discussion.

Other Reading Like This

I made reference to a few previous posts that you might be interested in checking out if my fiction is not your bag. Thank you for supporting my work.

Ah, The Smell of a New Book

When You Arrive, Send Me a Postcard

The Impossible Gift of Flow

Same Walk, Different Shoes: Volume I