Embrace the weightlessness of reinvention.

I'm on a new path, and yet I cling to the old way. Yes, the way I used to do things got me here, but I am traveling in a new direction. So how do I get things done now? Can I get ahead of my future process? Not likely, right? The result of the struggle is the process.

We cling to our tools and compass, don't we?

We've developed trust in these tools, there is comfort in doing things this way, our process has been proven to be effective. But what's that old saying about hammers: everything looks like a nail? So how do we know when the time has come for a new way, when do we figure out we need new tools, how are we to know our old tools aren't serving us any longer?

What happens when the tools that got us here are beginning to hold us back?

“But it’s time to move on. It’s terrible to lose a compass, but I have no strength to resist the disappearances.”

• Yoko Ogawa

When do we realize we've been resisting a new way? How do we leave our current understanding of the way things get done and reach for a new understanding?

The old way isn’t necessarily broken or ineffective, we can still grind through production and get things done. But there is a burden, a weight, we must contend with the gravity of the process before beginning work; and the work suffers because we have given the best of ourselves to overcoming the process-oriented obstacles instead of creating.

So how do we give up the resistance? How do we embrace our new way? How do we cultivate the strength to reinvent how we get things done without a wayfinder?

To resist: to withstand the action or effect of some thing. I resist the idea of doing things differently: always have, always do always, always will. I like to be organized and I obsess over process. Maybe I should first consider that I'm already lost and these tools, this way of doing things only points toward the past.

So time to let go, time to just drop all of this weight, leave it in the road right right where I stand, this very moment, and then take the next step. Then take time to consider the absence of that gravity, embrace this weightlessness, wait. Then take the next step and the next.

Then, consider building new tools and processes as those needs present themselves.

But also, embrace the idea that disappearances will occur: strength, inspiration, excitement, the work itself. All of these things will disappear at some point and are simply part of the way.

The resistance is what becomes cumbersome. If I can work to limit this inclination to resist, if I can resist the resistance, if I can remain open and fluid with how things get done, then the way is always there.

Where I resist is where I struggle and doubt, where I slow and stall, where I stop believing in myself. If I can keep moving, stay connected to the way whether I can see the horizon or a barely visible next step, I will find my way.