Practicing Commitment

A true free spirit, I’m addicted to possibility.

As an ENFP – which if you happen to be a nerd for Myers-Briggs Personalities –  curiosity, enthusiasm, exploration, and relationships largely shape the way I act in the world. ENFP types echo life as a “dreamer”; much like sentiments found in this beautiful piece of poetry:

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for – and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool – for love – for your dreams – for the adventure of being alive.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer
This is all really great stuff. And, I’m glad I’ve turned out the way I am. However, constant curiosity can create points of dissension in life, namely practicing what it means to commit – both in big and small aspects of life. 
Frequently, I find myself thinking of nearly 1,000 different directions I could take – and that’s even before I’ve chosen what I’m going to eat for breakfast. Rarely do my days look the same; I pile on interesting opportunity after interesting opportunity, only to find myself exhausted by weeks-end. What happens, when you are in the thick of options, choice, and never-ending wonder, is the lack of grit for commitment. Boundless options actually create paralysis, and I am only learning this now at the ripe age of 27.
And so, I’ve been praying a lot these days, about what it practically, tangibly looks like to commit in my life. It doesn’t mean I’m a wonder kill-joy. Of course not.
Remain curious, remain excited about the endless openings of life, but also, find roots.  

 

I want to “love the hell out of everybody.” I desperately want to feel “liberated and free.” And, like John Lewis talks about, I want to see “the spark of the divine” in everyone. My curiosity will open these paths; but it will be my commitment to the life in front of me that will build the kind of relationships that necessitate community.

This requires a hell of a lot of practice.

It means that my “yes” must mean “yes” and my “no” must mean “no.” It means that if sleep is important to me, I should aim for 7, maybe 8 hours (not 4 or 5). It means that I know my limits. Commitment, means living right where you are. I have dreams. Dream them. I have a beautiful past. Remember them. But, what God is teaching me now, more than ever, is that part of welcoming new seasons is the striving to commit to what they have to teach you, presently.

And so, to also instill a new kind of drive to commit, I recently joined a rugby team.

I have a blank, white slate to learn something new.

Unlike a new endeavor that I’m doing just for the heck of it, I am on the rugby team because it’s something I can tangibly work towards. It brings opportunity for goals – and the striving for achieving them.

I have practices each and every week – all of which that will test my physical, mental, and emotional endurance. I have team-members that I can learn from. I have regularity – a schedule that I know I can depend on.

I rest somewhere between the zest of being a student of something new, and the longevity of seeing hard work come to fruition.

I read in an old journal recently (from when I was around 8 years of age) about my dreams to join the NFL. Rugby is no NFL, but it is bad-ass. It is hard. The women that I am playing with are immensely impressive and I have a lot to learn.

So, I feel beautifully content that I’m still following old, planted dreams, with a newfound balance of curiosity and commitment to the endeavors I take on. I don’t have to grasp at all the tassels of life that present themselves.

Instead, I can know myself intimately, celebrate who I am, and commit to living the life I have wanted to live.

I am committed to being me. And really, there is no greater feeling.

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Post-first-ever rugby scrimmage at Infinity Park in Glendale.

 

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