Dance Now, Answers Later

Our Motive for Seeking Answers

I can distinctly recall moments in my life when I would have given anything to escape the season I was in. Freshman year of high school. First job. A week-long training at a new company. Recovering from a broken leg.

How about you? When have you desired to be transported away from a season?

Perhaps you wished to escape a job you felt didn’t align with your strengths.

• Or a crossroads between two major decisions — both of which seemed equally important.

• Or a season of financial strain when you were on a rice and beans diet to get out of debt.

• Or a period when the future seemed unclear and what once excited you no longer sparked joy.

For many of us, throughout our lives we find ourselves in seasons we wish to escape. Even if we don’t have clarity on the place we want to escape to — we know for sure we’re completely over our current station.

Invariably in moments like this we think to ourselves, "Answers would be nice!"

Perhaps we whisper our requests into a cup of coffee, scrawl questions in a journal or scream demands to the heavens:

Some answers would be nice!

Answers are nice - and by themselves are neither good nor bad. Kind of like calzones.

But when we desire answers we must pay closest attention - because we find what we're really looking for when we consider the motive behind our desire for answers.

To clarify this - when we're on the search for answers we most likely fall into one of two camps:

1. Seeking answers to escape the present or distract from important work here and now.

2. Seeking answers to understand how best to participate in this moment.

When our desire for answers is about finding a life raft away from this moment, perhaps we should revisit our motives.

We're only delaying the journey forward when we focus on escaping where we're at. It is by living through each moment - and taking every second as an opportunity to participate - that we're slowly made aware of the breadcrumbs to follow toward our future.

An old friend of mine used to say it this way: The need is the call.

What does this moment require of you? That is the answer. And the other answers will cascade from there.

Answers are Buried in Participation

To make this clearer, an example from my own life: I currently have a desperate desire to arrive at the definitive answer of what my core message is supposed to be. I've been pursuing a career as a writer and speaker for almost three years now and I'm still lost as to what my specific "thing" is. Dave Ramsey is the finance guy. Donald Miller is the story guy. Who am I? What is my message?

Often I'll find myself frustrated about this and before long, I'm in a tailspin about how I'll never break through. Where are the answers to pull me out of this uncertainty?, I'll lament to my dog.

Many days, my motive for wanting answers is to rescue me from the frustrating and hard work required of someone who desires to share words and stories for a living.

Many days, I want to be inspired on-command so I don't have to put in the work of living an inspiring life.

But it's a fool's errand to presume I might write compelling content about living well and finding meaning in work if I'm not fully engaged in the complicated business of living and working.

It's ridiculous of me to expect answers about the long game of life if I'm not willing to play in the short term.

If I'm trying to shake a few ideas loose or arrive at a new insight, it is always more engagement with the world and my surroundings which shows me the very next right things to do.

• Not more brainstorming

• Not more writing retreats

• Not more solitude

• Not better writing software

• Not nicer pens and higher quality journals

When I can remember this, I stop trying to imagine what my first book will be titled and start interacting with the people and the circumstances around me.

And by paying closest attention to the present, I'm soon drawn to a question or observation which guides me gently to a place where I'm inspired to write something down.

It is a commitment to the world which we're presented - exactly as it is - that will guide us toward the next right action. Not a longing for the imaginary buffet of ready-made answers.

How We Live > What We Do

I had coffee with a bright college student recently who found himself at a fork in the road. One path would take him toward entrepreneurship, and the other to a job at a big corporation.

"This decision feels big and daunting. What should I do?" he asked.

My response: "It doesn't really matter what you do - but how you navigate this season matters a great deal.”

He's got so much to learn about the intricacies of human interaction, what it means to care for people enough to sell them something, how to listen, how to stop being afraid of others and - if he's lucky - what is means to love himself. These things are the real ingredients of a meaningful life and career. And he'll be presented with the opportunity to access these learning elements of good living and good working no matter what he does…

IF he's willing to commit to each moment as it presents itself to him.

Yes, along the way he'll find clarity on specifics like which skills he'll choose to master, what sparks his curiosity and ignites his passion, and to which organization he should belong. Yet all of those realizations we believe are so crucial to our life path or career journey now will only come from a willingness to look the demon of distraction in the face and rebel against the influence of indecision - and pick the damn thing right in front of us to dance with.

We must commit to this moment. We must stop wishing to escape a present which doesn't satisfy. We must fully participate now.

Otherwise we'll find ourselves at the end of the dance - still waiting for the perfect song and the perfect partner - only to be shocked when the fluorescent lights clack on and the K-Ci & JoJo stops.

The answers on how to live a compelling and meaningful life full of purpose are right here, on the other side of commitment.