in service of the unfolding
roll the dice
I finished a 3 year old idea this week.
It came in the summer of 2020, arrived in a fury. I haphazardly made a mock up that night. There was an urgency to it. It needed out.
I spent the next month trying to bring the thing to life with no success. I was missing a crucial part - how to string each component together into one continuous piece. I wracked my brain for answers, then abandoned it entirely.
2 years passed. I never intended to keep working on it. But the thing kept showing up, kept asking to be made.
Finally I answered the call. Still having no clue how I’d complete it, I resolved to start again.
Things began to click almost immediately. I used new materials that were faster, less clunky. Once I started sewing, I solved my main problem in a matter of days. A sewing mistake had lead me right to it. That discovery was the fuel that carried me through to finally finishing.
I’ve been thinking about that moment - the mistake that turned out to be the solve. It was a sewing machine hack I didn’t know was possible; not something I could've planned for or thought my way into.
Writing this newsletter is a similar experience. I never know how it’ll end or tie together. Sometimes it’s a fucking grind. But there’s always a pop of insight. The ending shows up unannounced, tells me how to finish it. I learn something new.
Everyone who has ever done anything says to start before you’re ready. I always thought they were talking about fear. You’re scared shitless, but you’re never going to feel ready so start anyway.
Now I’m seeing it differently.
To start before you’re ready is how this game is intended to be played; to be in service of the universe and its unfolding. We show up as is, grab the dice and shake them with all of our worldly intent. But the next step is to let go. Our surrender is what sets everything in motion.
Choosing to roll the dice means we understand our place. Not hero or genius, but willing participant and collaborator.
To begin when we’ve got it all worked out is to be too late, to have missed the point entirely. That’s why the work feels so stale.
I vow to play the game that’s intended. To find my spot on the board. And to keep rolling the dice, in spite of myself. I imagine the universe would call that winning.