The Plan I Thought I Wanted
On the gap between "yes, that makes sense" and "oooh, let's do this."
Welcome to As It Turns Out, occasional field notes on the constant experiments I’m running in the background. Sometimes I move too fast and break things I shouldn’t, and sometimes I discover a really cool idea that’s worth sharing. If it don’t break, I’ll try not to fix it?
“I don’t want to, and you can’t make me!”1
If the image of a sulky five-year-old with arms crossed and a stamping foot comes to mind, that’s understandable.
Except this was my inner self (who apparently really is five years old) talking to my adult self reviewing her plans for the last cycle, and realizing that those plans were kinda falling apart.
A few years ago, I came up with the idea of commitment spheres2 when working with a client who truly had a lot on his plate, encouraging him to be more aware of scope/project creep. I’ve since come to find that thinking of my life as a Venn diagram of distinct but connected spheres orbiting around my purpose helps me filter what projects I choose to work on within each sphere.
But just as we recently explored how desire is the energy that pulls us toward purpose, I’m becoming more aware of just how much desire shapes what I do on a day-to-day basis. It’s more than just the low-key whine of “ugh, do I hafta.” It’s about the eagerness—and the resistance—I feel when it comes to actually executing some of the projects or rhythms I set for myself.
So, back to the adult and child. It’s the end of my six-week work cycle. I’m reviewing two of the projects I had on my schedule. Both have clear rationales; they’re located within my commitments and connected to my purpose, structurally sound and well-scheduled within my constraints. One project didn’t move at all; it had a clear done-state, a reasonable investment of time and energy. I believed it was important. But on any given day: I just didn’t want to do it.
The other finished with real momentum. The planning quality was the same. The desire wasn’t.
Structure can support desire. But it can’t manufacture it.
The question that most of us ask when a well-organized project or plan doesn’t materialize is: “What’s wrong with my system?”
Planning tools and frameworks can map the terrain correctly and still leave you stuck. It’s not always enough to know where you’re going; sometimes you need to figure out whether you actually want to go there.3 Most of us never notice this should/want gap because we’ve been trained to understand structure and planning as sufficient. Call it a product of the Protestant work ethic: whether you want it or not matters less than the effort you put in to making it happen.
My cycle planning and review did exactly what it needed to do; it surfaced the gap between “yes, that makes sense,” and “oooh, let’s do this!” Just as we’ve learned to see a plan in terms of structure and success, we’ve also come to understand reviews in terms of completion or failure. My cycle review very clearly showed me what I hadn’t done. But more than that, and better: it helped me get honest with myself.
So when it came time to planning for the next work cycle, the question became: “Do I actually want to do this, or do I just think I should want to?” Ignore whether it makes sense. What are my body and soul telling me about it?
I looked at the projects that didn’t happen or stalled out in the last cycle, as well as a couple of rhythms that didn’t rhyme. I realized that one project really needed to be a practice within my rhythms, and that another project had competing desires. Both desires are valid; it’s more a matter of discerning which one I want more right now. (So far, the “exhaustion with organized religion” is winning.)
So I shifted to protecting time for the new practice, and left the project on the back burner for now. It’s on my radar; I have prompts to remind myself to check in with it. But I’m going to listen to what my desire and my resistance are telling me, because I know it will be easy to avoid this project and let it fall by the wayside. But that’s where discernment comes in; there may come a time when I need to listen to a different desire, and find a way to befriend the thing I’m most anxious to ignore.
The conversation continues.
Let’s be hopeful, creative, and wise—together.
Shalom,
f you’d like to take a few moments to think out loud about who you’re becoming, I offer a free 15-minute Curiosity Call as a place to start.
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