Get After Your Work

I've played out the scenario a number of times in my mind. 

Doctor walks in, "You have terminal cancer. 6 months to live."


What do I do next? It's the thing which would embody the remainder of my life. 

I'd spend time with the people I care most about, AND... I'd get after the work that lies in my bones. I believe you'd do the same. I'm not talking about your job necessarily, I mean the work you were designed to do. The novel you never wrote, the blog you haven't started, or the epic hiking trip you've pushed off and aren't in shape for. 

You are meant to do something. It may be basket weaving or brewing delicious beer, but you were crafted with a unique propensity and disposition to do something fantastic. The sad truth is so few of us do what we are meant to do. 

'Life' also known as a list of shitty excuses and distractions get in the way of our great endeavors. I've discovered recently how I can easily get lost in the minutia of any given day and not get after the work I'm supposed to accomplish. How many times a day do I check Twitter for personal reason? How easy is it to check out that click-bate? 

The hard work is the kind that's most fulfilling. When I meet any kind of resistance for what it is I'm trying to accomplish I'm usually doing the good stuff. When I say resistance I mean my monkey mind going wild trying desperately to keep me off task. It's on the days that I allow this part of my brain to run wild that I feel empty shallow and out of sorts. 

Then there are days... when I get after the work. 

I crank out 10,000 words for a book. I compose social media posts that spread. I move the ball forward all day without stopping. Sure I got kicked in the face along the way. I received that email from those people, and my dog decided it was time to see how fast he could do laps around my living room. 

But... I got to work. I kept working. 

Whatever it is you are passionate about, your life mantra, get after it. Don't keep waiting to do it, stop making excuses and do your work.