The Big Difference (and a Confession)

Not long ago, I was in conversation with a business woman who compared herself to me. The comment went something like, “I’m determined to make my business work. It just will, because I’m so determined. Like you are with your writing.”

She meant it as a compliment. I am absolutely sure of that fact. But the comparison bothered me, and it’s taken me weeks to figure out why.

See, from where the business woman was standing, my dogged, often masochistic ability to pursue my dreams, despite a mountain range of setbacks, looked a lot like sheer determination. And in her mind, that thing she saw as determination was strong enough, big enough, to make anything work, regardless of odds, or circumstances, or, well, economy, I guess. And the reason her comment bothered me is because I don’t necessarily believe that’s true. I don’t think determination is enough. Ever.

That thing she sees in me, the one she named determination is not actually determination at all. It’s a little voice in my head that won’t stop talking until I listen to it, a grinding in my gut that won’t calm until I feed it, a restlessness in my fingers that won’t settle until I pick up a pen or pull out a keyboard, it’s the thoughts in my brain that swirl in a cyclone of colors and light and sound, tastes and smells and feelings, keeping me up at night, occupying my mind throughout the day. It’s a part of me that’s as vital and important as air.

Confession: I have more rejections than anyone I know. More than anyone I’ve even heard proudly announce as they told their story of success. And you know what? It sucks. I hate it. Hate it so badly that every night, I decide to quit writing.

But then the next morning, I wake up, go to the gym, come home—brain brimming with ideas—go to my computer and write anyway.

Call that determination if you want. All you want. But people like me, we know the difference. Determination may get you places, may keep you going when things get rough, and might even help you succeed. Eventually.

But if you really want something, so bad it gets under your skin, squeezes your lungs until you can’t breathe, hums like electricity in your veins—that’s passion. And in my world, passion is the most important element of success.

That is what I have, and the reason I know I’ll get to where I want to be.

No. Determination isn’t enough. If it was, I’d have been able to quit a long time ago.

The Climb—Southern Utah Style

In Southern Utah, just outside Moab, there’s this enormous sand hill. I say hill, not dune, because you’re driving along on the highway, surrounded by hundreds of extremely tall red cliff formations, and then you come around a bend and there’s this hill, which is part of one of these cliff-type mountains, only it’s made entirely of red sand.

And being made of sand, of course, people have to play in it. Because that’s what sand is for, yes? So you pull off the highway and park, and stand at the bottom of this hill and you think, yeah, I can totally climb this bad-boy. Easier than the stair-stepper at the gym. Cake. It’s just sand, and what’s softer, easier than sand?

Um. Yeah. Not so much. Because then you roll up your pants and take off your shoes and start climbing. And it’s harder than you thought. But, you know, you’re in decent shape, and a little hard work doesn’t scare you away. You look up, see a few people ahead, figure they’re still climbing, so it’s possible. And you keep going.

You come to a big rock. It’s a good place to rest, so you sit on it, turn around and look how far you’ve come. It looks a lot farther down than you realized. “Yes!” you think to yourself. “I’m awesome.” And you do a little dance (but carefully, because you don’t want to tumble down). Then you look up again. And it looks so. Far. Away.

But there are still people ahead, and you’re in good shape. Plus, you’re brave. So you start up again. Once again, you find a rock and rest. This time, you don’t look up or down, you just rest, let the air cool your sweat-soaked skin, and try to ignore the throbbing in every one of your muscles. This climb hurts more than you ever imagined. But at this point, you’re so close to the top that you’d be insane to stop now and miss out on that photo op with you at the top of the world.

So you climb some more. And some more. And some more. And it feels like you’ll never get to the top. Except eventually, you do.

You look down, and wave at all the people below, feeling accomplished because you. Made. It. Then you turn around, and you look, take in the place you thought was the top of the world. And you find a whole bunch more hills. And you’ve only scaled one. But it was a big one. Maybe the biggest one you’ve ever climbed. So you hold out your arms and you scream with delight, because all your hard work got you to the top of this really difficult hill.

And now you know how to climb the next one. Hopefully, it won’t be made of sand.

Made By Sheer Determination

Did I ever tell you my daughter Sneezy plays soccer? I know we’ve discussed basketball and softball, but all truth be told, soccer is her game. It’s the sport that makes her smile even as she tapes her blisters, dresses turf burn, and ices deep purple bruises.

This year she’s heading into high school as a sophomore (our HS here starts with sophomores, and freshmen attend the junior high—but don’t get me started on that) and decided she wanted to try out for the JV/ varsity soccer team.

At the beginning of June, Sneezy had a large tumor (non cancerous, yay!) removed from her neck. The surgery resulted in tendon and nerve damage in her neck and face that has left portions of those areas either in pain or completely numb. As a result, Sneezy has a tough time fully rotating her shoulder (a bad deal for a keeper/goalie), and occasionally when she runs, the insides of her neck throb like they’re going to "fall out".

Within a week of her surgery, summer conditioning started. Five days a week from 8-10:00 am, players proved their dedication by showing up and working their butts off in preparation for the soccer season. Sneezy missed almost a month, and worried about falling behind. Still, she determined she had to try.

So as soon as she could, Sneezy got up early every summer morning and went to conditioning, worked extra hard, then came home and spent the rest of the day with Ice packs taped to her shoulder and neck until she stopped needing the ice, and stopped needing the painkillers, and started to catch up.

Last week was try out week, which meant two hours in the mornings and two in the afternoons, of very seriously difficult work. At the end of each day, the coaches made cuts, and only those who made it through were invited back the next day.

Monday: Sneezy didn’t get cut. But one of her best friends (who is a phenomenal player) did.

Tuesday: Sneezy didn’t get cut. But another of her best friends did.

Wednesday: Most of Sneezy’s friends got cut. But Sneezy was invited back.

Thursday: Sneezy made the team and was given not just one, but two playing positions, ensuring her playing time as both JV and Varsity.

Friday: To celebrate, the team ran five miles around the city before starting their regular workout routine. But Sneezy got both her keeper jersey, and her forward one.

Sneezy still has pain and numbness. And she’s so sad her best friends got cut. But she has dedicated herself to working hard, moving up, doing her best to be the best soccer player she can be, despite any obstacles or challenges that come her way.

We’d all do well to learn a lesson from my fifteen-year-old Sneezy. I certainly have.

**All you Utahns, don't forget to stop by the big event and say hi!

Finding My Footing

You know how there are times in life when you look around and wonder what you were thinking when you decided to do this thing, or that thing, or pursue this XYZ life path? Yeah. I’ve had a few of those lately. The kind where I look around going, really? I chose this? Why again?

But honestly, I know. I always know. Just. Sometimes, I lose my grip and have to find my footings again, that’s all.

The other day, my husband and I were hiking in Arches National Park, near Moab, UT. We’re not into doing stupid things that would risk both of our lives (cuz, we still have kids to raise) but we do like adventure, and we’re both pretty brave when it comes to trying new things. Not that hiking is new to us. But some places are scarier than others—as in steep. I’m not afraid of heights, and neither is he. But try scaling a cliff with a 200 foot drop, and it can be a little nerve wracking to the bravest of people.

As you may (or may not) know, the sights and natural wonders which are generally most desirable, most amazing, most breathtaking, are also the most difficult to get to. And sometimes a little on the dangerous side. (Especially when you climb them in canvas Rocket Dog shoes with smooth tread.)

But as we only had one day to hike, I knew I only had one chance to see the best sights. And I was determined to do it. This is what I climbed.

 Here is one of the drop-offs.

My reward.

What I learned: Determination is enough as long as you are careful to find the right footing. And even if it’s hard, the determined always make it to the top.