Taking a Break from Being Awesome
I'm taking a break from being awesome.
That sounds like a pretty ego-centric type of thing to say! But, in fact, it's a radically ego-surrendering type of thing to say. And potentially a huge relief...
"Being awesome" looks different for everyone, but we all feel the pressure to be our own version of awesome. Here's mine:
- Make sure everyone around me, especially my family, is okay
- Make sure my surroundings are safe, clean, orderly
- Make profound statements that cut to the core of every situation
- Make a global impact with my work
- Find a non-fake connection to the Source of Life / God and share it with the world
(There's more, but I'll stop there.)
Obviously, these aren't bad things. Even as I typed this list I thought, "These are great things to aspire to, why are you even writing this essay??"
But I believe there is something important here for me, maybe for you as well:
When I think about taking a break from being awesome, I feel a flood of relief — I'm tired of carrying the weight of being "awesome."
But that flood of relief is immediately followed by a wave of fear.
What is this fear all about? Why is taking a break from being awesome such a scary thought?
When I really look at it, "being awesome" is essentially a description of my ideal version of myself. Look at my Instagram account, my website, even this newsletter... what traits do they convey to you about me? Now look at my list.
I pride myself on not playing the social media game but there it is, my digital avatar, a public statement about who I am. Written, edited, and published by me.
Being awesome is... awesome. Look at my list — those are great things to put out into the world: Restoration. Connection. Honesty. Clarity. Hope.
But often for me there is a fear beneath these qualities, an insecurity, a crack in the foundation — a secret in the basement:
What if the real me — the me without all of the awesomeness, the one preceding my list — is not enough?
That fear makes it difficult if not impossible for me to carry the weight of my list for the long haul. After 44 years, I am fatigued. On my present course, I can clearly see burnout on the horizon.
If being awesome eventually leads me to burnout, what good was my light? Did I inspire others for a time? How long will that inspiration last?
And perhaps more important, to where did my light lead? If all of my efforts eventually led me to burnout, to where did I ultimately lead others?
My awesome deeds will disappear — as quickly as the light of a burnt-out candle. But the impact of the quality of my being resounds forever.
I'm taking a break from being awesome. More specifically, I'm taking a break from carrying the weight of being awesome, in order to simply be.
My daughter Olivia didn't have a list. She wasn't able to do anything on others' list. She didn't even die when others said she was supposed to die. She never even got the hang of holding up her own head. But she was awesome — as awesome as the most awesome human, ever.
Olivia didn't carry the weight of awesomeness — she embodied it by simply being.
To be clear, my point is not that being awesome is bad; it is that the weight and responsibility of being awesome is not something we were ever meant to carry.
And I am starting to suspect that trying to carry that weight is likely to become the very thing which most prevents us from being awesome.
So I'm putting that weight down. Yes, it is scary. The potential downside is that I will fade into mediocrity, appearing profoundly un-special to every person in the world (if they even notice me).
But think of the potential upside: What if I am awesome? Before any doing, without any effort, at the level of my being?
Being awesome is not bad. It's possible — likely — that my list above truly does describe me. But I can spend my life playing the part of me, never really being me.
I'm taking a break from being awesome so that I can simply be me. And that may be awesome! But not because I made it so. Because it is. Because I am. In this way, I relate a little more closely to God, who self-identifies as I Am.
It's a risk. Letting go of my list could lead to loss. In fact, it will. But the potential upside is infinitely greater than the loss: by letting go of being awesome, I might discover that I am enough.