The Work Will Still Be There
The work will still be there. The ideas will come again. But there won’t always be LEGOs on the couch. A reminder to myself that ambition can wait. My children won’t always be children.
Timing is everything.
You can’t control when creative energy hits you.
It could be a thought. A series of words. An event. A conversation. Or something you never expected to inspire you at all.
This morning started a little crazy.
Eventually, I sat down and noticed LEGOs scattered across the couch.
And I could hear it:
“Okay, pick your character and then your add-on, Rodney.”
It echoed through my head.
A moment that had already happened.
And I missed it.
I was probably trying to force something else.
A video. A piece of writing. A text message that might drum up some work.
Something productive.
Something that could move things forward.
My ambition has a way of ruling me in those moments. It convinces me that because an opportunity exists to work, I should take it.
But then there are moments like this one.
I’m sitting here with nothing pressing on my plate.
I’m perfectly willing to give myself time to make a YouTube video.
I’ll give myself time to write.
I’ll give myself time to think.
So what was the problem earlier?
It was just the LEGOs then.
Now, as I scoop them up and put them into a hat, they’re meaningless.
Lifeless pieces of plastic.
Because the life wasn’t in the LEGOs.
It was in the moment.
And I missed that one.
There’s nothing I can do to get it back.
I can’t recreate the exact excitement. I can’t manufacture the same question. I can’t rewind the morning and suddenly become more present.
All I can do is make the most of the next one.
Sit my kids down.
Talk to them.
Play LEGOs.
Ask questions.
Be inspired.
Be proud.
Be still.
Maybe timing really is everything.
Not just knowing when inspiration strikes.
But recognizing that some of the most important moments of our lives don’t announce themselves as important.
They look like toys scattered across a couch.
And if we aren’t careful, ambition will convince us to step over them on our way to something that feels more important.
The world will always require something from you.
Your children won’t always be children.