Regrets are good. Having regrets helps you self-correct. And life is about self-correcting and self-adjusting yourself to the universal truths, to God, to what it means to be a human and a part of this world. Sometimes we don’t learn nor change unless we feel the pain of regret.
I’ve missed writing here. In the meantime, I’ve tweaked my site like crazy. I wanted to have a perfect looking website before I fully engage myself in blogging. – This is the perfectionist in me and looks like she brought her brother, the procrastinator. I want to do my best to ignore them.
This whole “I need this and that before I start working on what I really want to do” is just a trick of the mind. We try to find logical arguments why we don’t start or continue doing something new.
But what we do is that we trick ourselves out of what we want because we try to avoid discomfort.
Every time you start something new, you feel a level of discomfort. That new thing has the potential to become second nature to you if you continue on the path.
Not everything you try becomes second nature. Some things turn out to just not be your “thing.”
The challenge, then, is to recognize what’s worth continuing with, despite the discomfort of change, and what’s not worth it. And it all comes down to what you truly want. Do you want it enough to overcome the discomfort of the new beginning?
I was telling a friend I enrolled in a writing workshop. She knew I’ve been searching for ways to explore my creativity. And her advice was to be careful about choosing writing because it might come from a subconscious need to be known and it might be driven by the ego.
I felt a little disappointed by her words. And for a while, I took a break from working on the assignments for the writing course.
But this made me think of the times in my life when I’ve let others’ opinions influence me; when I gave up passions and projects because of other people’s comments. And later regretted it. Even years later.
Each time I’ve let myself go astray, deep inside, there was another voice trying to guide me. Now, I hear it better. Then, it was just a faint whisper – maybe because I didn’t use to listen to it much. Or perhaps the voice was afraid like I was.
For too long, I looked for answers outside. In my need for certainty, I surrounded myself with louder sounds. But louder isn’t necessarily wiser.
The voice within had to cut through the noise. And I had to learn to listen to the silence.