How to Follow Your Dreams
Monday, I chose to clean my room violently, for it was a multitude of mess.
Yesterday, therefore, was my first proper day working for myself.
I got a new student, wrote notes for an old one, began my application for substitute teaching, submitted the documents for supervising visits, wrote an email to a young-adult fiction editor, and a few other things.
Before I wrote that all down, I felt like I had been unproductive. Hmm.
In any case, I wanted to encourage all you folks:
I was chatting with a dear friend recently. I got to listen to some of her wonderful piano songs. She asked me about this new path I have undertaken. She said that she would like to attempt something similar, something independent, but that she also fears the challenges inherent in such an endeavor.
I continually ask for God's grace and mercy as I pursue all my crazy ideas, but I have learned a number of things along the way already. It can't be boiled down to any one thing—or even any three things—but I've found three factors to be especially important: planning, people, and persistence.
You can never pursue something if you've never even thought about pursuing it. I'm sure you can imagine the people who wistfully talk about what might have been. They'll describe how their life would have looked: their house, their family, their friends, or other such details. A raw dream won't take you very far, but it's a necessary start.
A little while ago, I was at a bar just jotting thoughts. I asked the bartender what her dream was. She said she dreams of having her own place, her own bar.
I asked her what the theme would be. "I haven't thought about that," she replied.
I asked her what music she would play. "I haven't thought about that."
I asked her how she would decorate it. "I haven't thought about that."
I asked her, in 17 years of bartending, what has she envisioned when she thinks of her own place.
"I haven't thought about that," she said again. "I'm more of a realist."
That is no realism. That is no plan. That is no dream. That is, perhaps, merely regret.
I'm definitely not the smartest, but I knew I had to have resources in place before I pressed toward my dream. For Rudolph Strategies, I started many, many months ago, jotting down ideas in my little notebook or on random scraps of paper. I started collecting resources: testimonials from past students for example. I began a cheap draft of my website. I started researching other websites to see how they formatted things. I started drafting documents that I would send out to get students or give to my students. I don't even use most of the documents I created, but they're ready just in case. I started reaching out to libraries, schools, and colleges. I started visiting every shop in every shopping center just to ask if they'd post up one of my fliers. I started drafting the pages for my website. I made so many drafts and so many notes.
My brother Isaac—one of the best craftsmen you could hope to meet—has a motto: "Measure twice. Cut once." More or less, I had a whole system set up before I even flipped the on-switch.
I'm pretty resourceful, and I definitely enjoy learning new things, but I knew I didn't know enough to make it all work. I started asking just about anybody for advice. An especially helpful advisor changed my website from "Reindeer Strategies" with a cute, little reindeer logo to "Rudolph Strategies" with a professional chess maneuver for a logo. Another friend—after hearing me talk about my need for a portrait for my website—took the photo I have posted on my About Me page. Another friend has recently advised me about the usefulness of creating purchasable webinars. Another friend helped me distribute my contact information.
One day, I was feeling discouraged by a series of unsuccessful interviews, so I wandered into a used video game store that was on the way home. I didn't buy anything, but I looked around at their wide selection and chatted with the lady who was at the desk at the time. I ended up leaving, but, just before I got in my car, I figured I'd ask for her input about how to get my tutoring noticed. She directed me to local community centers. I went straight to the local community center and befriended the director there who let me post up my flier as well as connected me to a Halloween event for which I set up a vendor table to advertise my own tutoring!
When I made my first business card, I asked quite an array of people who gave me so many good pointers. When I redo it, I will ask so many people again.
And then plain emotional support has been paramount! I don't remember when I decided this would be my path, but I chose to pursue this no matter what anyone said. I acknowledged that I may have a thousand set-backs but that I would never relent permanently. To the contrary, however, there has only been increasing support. Do not underestimate the value of someone saying with conviction, "you can do it."
This factor is the most simple and, at first, the most terrible. It's easy to become discouraged, and it's easy to give up, to go back, to apologize for dreaming and to return to the safe, dissatisfying path you've known so long.
I was working with a man on a certain project. It had a similar format to what I'm doing with Rudolph Strategies in the sense that we were trying to reach out to many different people and bring them together for a unified cause (not exactly the same but close enough). With anything new—and with anything that requires a lot of people to come together at the same time—it was poised to be a long, arduous process. Obviously, it didn't take flight after the first few attempts. After acknowledging our last unsuccessful attempt, my associate texted me saying, "It's not even worth it. We should just give it up."
As I look back across all the broken dreams, all the naysayers, all the regretful people, it's no wonder. If the average, self-respecting adult gives up after a few failed attempts, it's no wonder that no one dares or believes.
At this point, I'm pretty good at math. I've been teaching it since high school, and I've tutored all the way up to calculus 2. For a long time, I thought I was just gifted with math, that it was the luck of the draw as they say, and I got a strong hand for mathematics. Only in the past few years have I realized my strongest gift was that I enjoyed it. I didn't start off with anything magical; I just enjoyed it like some kind of special puzzle. I recall many evenings where I would spend hours upon hours wrestling with my homework because I was determined not only to get right answers but also to understand.
It was terribly frustrating, but it was a kind of frustrating that I enjoyed. My gift was the enjoyment. My understanding came from persistence afforded to me by my enjoyment.
I went to L'Abri once for two months. The story around that trip is for another article, but I want to tell you of ping pong. I've long been a fan of ping pong; I've played since middle school. They had a table at the L'Abri that I visited. I befriended a tall Canadian man who was quite good. There was one day when neither he nor I had any responsibilities, so we played ping pong. I lost the first game miserably: I had a single digit score. Still, I enjoyed the game, so we played another: another crushing loss for me. I enjoyed his company and the game, so we played over ten games in a row in which I lost. For one of my last losses, though, the score was close. Then, suddenly, I started winning every game. The tables turned if you will, and I began trouncing him. Afterwards, I won most every game I played with anyone else during my visit there.
I lost, lost, and lost again, but enjoyment and determination kept me going. This story won't work for everyone in every situation. I am no good at basketball. Though I could improve with diligent practice, raw determination wouldn't get me anywhere. The moral of the story, though, is that, with some preexisting skill, a lot of fun, and a heap of determination, I switched from losing soundly to winning soundly.
With Rudolph Strategies, I figuratively ran into so many walls headlong. It hurt, and I was discouraged. However, I told myself that I would not relent no matter what. At first, there were so many times I said, "It's never going to work." I would let those feelings sink in for a day, but I would try something, anything new the next day. Eventually, I retrained myself. Instead of saying, "It's never going to work," I started asking, "How can I make it work?" After a while, I didn't even hesitate and started asking, "What's next?" I would plow through two, three, four failures and find a success at my fifth, sixth, seventh attempt. A success is still a success even if it's preceded by a thousand failures.
It may sound trite, but it's so true: A failure only counts as a failure if you give up. If you persist, a failure turns into a lesson.
There are too many factors, and not every dream is a good dream. The preliminary question is where is your heart? Years ago, my heart was dark with too many things. I followed it, and it took me down a path of destruction. After what I call my catastrophe, I realized my heart was in all the wrong places. I have been praying and journaling all over the place for a long time now; I've been able to learn what was in my heart, and I realized I wanted my future to look very differently. I reorganized my priorities, I forgave a lot of people, I apologized to a lot of people, and I reevaluated where my heart was.
I often joke with my students, friends, or family by saying, "follow your heart." I said that to a friend who asked me why I say that so often. She noted that that can be really bad advice. It depends on where your heart is. Years ago, my heart was in resentment and fear and selfishness and isolation. By God's grace, my heart is entering repentance and hope and imagination and diligence. Where is your heart? If it's in a bad place, you need to reevaluate your priorities and your plans.
If it's in the right place, follow your heart.
Yesterday, therefore, was my first proper day working for myself.
I got a new student, wrote notes for an old one, began my application for substitute teaching, submitted the documents for supervising visits, wrote an email to a young-adult fiction editor, and a few other things.
Before I wrote that all down, I felt like I had been unproductive. Hmm.
In any case, I wanted to encourage all you folks:
I was chatting with a dear friend recently. I got to listen to some of her wonderful piano songs. She asked me about this new path I have undertaken. She said that she would like to attempt something similar, something independent, but that she also fears the challenges inherent in such an endeavor.
I continually ask for God's grace and mercy as I pursue all my crazy ideas, but I have learned a number of things along the way already. It can't be boiled down to any one thing—or even any three things—but I've found three factors to be especially important: planning, people, and persistence.
Planning
You can never pursue something if you've never even thought about pursuing it. I'm sure you can imagine the people who wistfully talk about what might have been. They'll describe how their life would have looked: their house, their family, their friends, or other such details. A raw dream won't take you very far, but it's a necessary start.
A little while ago, I was at a bar just jotting thoughts. I asked the bartender what her dream was. She said she dreams of having her own place, her own bar.
I asked her what the theme would be. "I haven't thought about that," she replied.
I asked her what music she would play. "I haven't thought about that."
I asked her how she would decorate it. "I haven't thought about that."
I asked her, in 17 years of bartending, what has she envisioned when she thinks of her own place.
"I haven't thought about that," she said again. "I'm more of a realist."
That is no realism. That is no plan. That is no dream. That is, perhaps, merely regret.
I'm definitely not the smartest, but I knew I had to have resources in place before I pressed toward my dream. For Rudolph Strategies, I started many, many months ago, jotting down ideas in my little notebook or on random scraps of paper. I started collecting resources: testimonials from past students for example. I began a cheap draft of my website. I started researching other websites to see how they formatted things. I started drafting documents that I would send out to get students or give to my students. I don't even use most of the documents I created, but they're ready just in case. I started reaching out to libraries, schools, and colleges. I started visiting every shop in every shopping center just to ask if they'd post up one of my fliers. I started drafting the pages for my website. I made so many drafts and so many notes.
My brother Isaac—one of the best craftsmen you could hope to meet—has a motto: "Measure twice. Cut once." More or less, I had a whole system set up before I even flipped the on-switch.
People
I'm pretty resourceful, and I definitely enjoy learning new things, but I knew I didn't know enough to make it all work. I started asking just about anybody for advice. An especially helpful advisor changed my website from "Reindeer Strategies" with a cute, little reindeer logo to "Rudolph Strategies" with a professional chess maneuver for a logo. Another friend—after hearing me talk about my need for a portrait for my website—took the photo I have posted on my About Me page. Another friend has recently advised me about the usefulness of creating purchasable webinars. Another friend helped me distribute my contact information.
One day, I was feeling discouraged by a series of unsuccessful interviews, so I wandered into a used video game store that was on the way home. I didn't buy anything, but I looked around at their wide selection and chatted with the lady who was at the desk at the time. I ended up leaving, but, just before I got in my car, I figured I'd ask for her input about how to get my tutoring noticed. She directed me to local community centers. I went straight to the local community center and befriended the director there who let me post up my flier as well as connected me to a Halloween event for which I set up a vendor table to advertise my own tutoring!
When I made my first business card, I asked quite an array of people who gave me so many good pointers. When I redo it, I will ask so many people again.
And then plain emotional support has been paramount! I don't remember when I decided this would be my path, but I chose to pursue this no matter what anyone said. I acknowledged that I may have a thousand set-backs but that I would never relent permanently. To the contrary, however, there has only been increasing support. Do not underestimate the value of someone saying with conviction, "you can do it."
Persistence
This factor is the most simple and, at first, the most terrible. It's easy to become discouraged, and it's easy to give up, to go back, to apologize for dreaming and to return to the safe, dissatisfying path you've known so long.
I was working with a man on a certain project. It had a similar format to what I'm doing with Rudolph Strategies in the sense that we were trying to reach out to many different people and bring them together for a unified cause (not exactly the same but close enough). With anything new—and with anything that requires a lot of people to come together at the same time—it was poised to be a long, arduous process. Obviously, it didn't take flight after the first few attempts. After acknowledging our last unsuccessful attempt, my associate texted me saying, "It's not even worth it. We should just give it up."
As I look back across all the broken dreams, all the naysayers, all the regretful people, it's no wonder. If the average, self-respecting adult gives up after a few failed attempts, it's no wonder that no one dares or believes.
At this point, I'm pretty good at math. I've been teaching it since high school, and I've tutored all the way up to calculus 2. For a long time, I thought I was just gifted with math, that it was the luck of the draw as they say, and I got a strong hand for mathematics. Only in the past few years have I realized my strongest gift was that I enjoyed it. I didn't start off with anything magical; I just enjoyed it like some kind of special puzzle. I recall many evenings where I would spend hours upon hours wrestling with my homework because I was determined not only to get right answers but also to understand.
It was terribly frustrating, but it was a kind of frustrating that I enjoyed. My gift was the enjoyment. My understanding came from persistence afforded to me by my enjoyment.
I went to L'Abri once for two months. The story around that trip is for another article, but I want to tell you of ping pong. I've long been a fan of ping pong; I've played since middle school. They had a table at the L'Abri that I visited. I befriended a tall Canadian man who was quite good. There was one day when neither he nor I had any responsibilities, so we played ping pong. I lost the first game miserably: I had a single digit score. Still, I enjoyed the game, so we played another: another crushing loss for me. I enjoyed his company and the game, so we played over ten games in a row in which I lost. For one of my last losses, though, the score was close. Then, suddenly, I started winning every game. The tables turned if you will, and I began trouncing him. Afterwards, I won most every game I played with anyone else during my visit there.
I lost, lost, and lost again, but enjoyment and determination kept me going. This story won't work for everyone in every situation. I am no good at basketball. Though I could improve with diligent practice, raw determination wouldn't get me anywhere. The moral of the story, though, is that, with some preexisting skill, a lot of fun, and a heap of determination, I switched from losing soundly to winning soundly.
With Rudolph Strategies, I figuratively ran into so many walls headlong. It hurt, and I was discouraged. However, I told myself that I would not relent no matter what. At first, there were so many times I said, "It's never going to work." I would let those feelings sink in for a day, but I would try something, anything new the next day. Eventually, I retrained myself. Instead of saying, "It's never going to work," I started asking, "How can I make it work?" After a while, I didn't even hesitate and started asking, "What's next?" I would plow through two, three, four failures and find a success at my fifth, sixth, seventh attempt. A success is still a success even if it's preceded by a thousand failures.
It may sound trite, but it's so true: A failure only counts as a failure if you give up. If you persist, a failure turns into a lesson.
Follow Your Heart
There are too many factors, and not every dream is a good dream. The preliminary question is where is your heart? Years ago, my heart was dark with too many things. I followed it, and it took me down a path of destruction. After what I call my catastrophe, I realized my heart was in all the wrong places. I have been praying and journaling all over the place for a long time now; I've been able to learn what was in my heart, and I realized I wanted my future to look very differently. I reorganized my priorities, I forgave a lot of people, I apologized to a lot of people, and I reevaluated where my heart was.
I often joke with my students, friends, or family by saying, "follow your heart." I said that to a friend who asked me why I say that so often. She noted that that can be really bad advice. It depends on where your heart is. Years ago, my heart was in resentment and fear and selfishness and isolation. By God's grace, my heart is entering repentance and hope and imagination and diligence. Where is your heart? If it's in a bad place, you need to reevaluate your priorities and your plans.
If it's in the right place, follow your heart.
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