Growth Mindset
My intention this year is to make new friends. So far, I’ve met five people, at least one of whom I’ll keep seeing. It’s a start.
This is not the kind of project I expected to be taking on at this stage of life. I have wonderful old friends. But one by one, they’re moving away. And while Zoom and Facetime will keep us in touch, there’s just no substitute for the sustenance that proximity confers. Covid confirmed what I’ve long suspected: without lingering hugs, long-walk talks, and raucous dinners with those we love, we might as well die.
It's hard work, this outreach. Nerves grip my gut prior to each meeting (rejection being a fear you apparently never outgrow). And that reveals something even more vital for me to cultivate this year: uncertainty.
Uncertainty is what most of us try to eliminate. We do everything in our power to know what each new day or destination may hold. We research our route so as not to wander; we plan our discoveries so as not to waste time on less-than-top-rated experiences. We seek out tools that accurately predict outcome so we needn’t experiment. Ever larger chunks of our present—precious time we will never get back—go toward preparing for a future made uncertain by climate change, political instability, and economic volatility.
Yet all this control we exercise is turning our growth muscle to flab—denying us the serendipity that makes human life so precious.
Financial Times writer Enuma Okoro suggests as much in her January 7th column, “Here’s what we should treasure in the new year.” Referencing the Journey of the Magi, a painting by James Tissot, she points out that the treasure awaiting these pilgrims—the Baby Jesus—isn’t the only one implied by their journey. “I can’t help but wonder,” she muses, “if the thing to be treasured is also the courage, openness and willingness to embrace the different paths that might open up in one’s life, even if it means potential change.”
Feeling doubtful, nervous, or fearful tells me I’m on a different path, one not mapped on my iPhone, one that sets me up for growth. So—big intake of breath—I’m courting that feeling. I’m showing up for activities I suck at, like yoga. I’m committing to trips that scare me, like backpacking 100 miles of Maine wilderness. I’m signing up for courses whose subject I know unforgivably little about (AI, geology, Constitutional law). And I’m texting total strangers who share my love of hiking or climbing or learning, because being vulnerable together accelerates the likelihood we’ll forge a profound connection.
It's looking like a year of getting lost, screwing up, and wasting time. I hope you’ll join me. We could be friends.
