Sandy
There was a time in my life where I didn’t like going to the beach because I didn’t like getting sandy.
I liked the ocean. I liked swimming. Surfing. Boogie boarding (what a great name, by the way). I liked playing soccer and football and beach tennis with my friends. But I just hated the sand. And so, as a result, I didn’t go to the beach nearly as much as I could have.
One day, I decided to stop caring about the sand. It was kind of random. There was no ten-part visit with a therapist where we discussed my (common, I think?) aversion to sand. There was no meditation session where I confronted it and got over it. I just sort of stopped caring.
Fear of sand gone, I picked up my phone. “Beach this weekend?”
(You may find this story absurd. It may sound invented. It is not. It is actually true for both of us.)
* * *
It seems to me that a lot of things in life are like this. You like many aspects of a thing, but not every aspect. There is a coworker you mostly get along with except you think they are too direct. There is a friend you like except you disagree with some of their political views. You think your parents-in-law are good overall, but they have different perspectives on religion. You met someone you think may be a wonderful partner except you don’t like the way they eat soup.
And, like with sand at the beach, I think you basically have a choice: Do you let the small thing get in the way? In the way of people you meet? Of projects you work on? Of places you visit?
You can do whatever you want.
But my take is that you shouldn’t let feeling sandy get in the way of something that could be great.
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