I’m a slacker.

I’ve admitted it for years, I called it out from the top of rooftops and decided that I Don’t Care was a great motto to shout.

I may have been wrong.

Floating by was easy. I’m not trying to sound pompous or brilliant or anything, but once you have a general idea of how the system works and what looks good, it’s easy enough to just say sure that’s good enough.

I didn’t get a 4.0 at a prestigious Ivy League school, nor did I try to get one. I didn’t work three jobs to pay for my tuition or write out applications for grants and scholarships. I didn’t bust my ass in classes.

To be honest, I showed up to class (usually 5 minutes late) with a latte and a slice of cake, plopped myself down in the second or first row and watched and listened. I never took notes (I still don’t) yet when I would engage I had something insightful to add (or so I generally think).

I didn’t even fully commit to dancing for a long time – and it’s my first passion in life. The one that gives me that all consuming hunger to learn, do, engage and play.

I picked and piece-mealed my way through life. A bit of work here, a bit of work there. I see myself doing that even now.

This past year I did enough to get by, I worked as little as I could, created as little as I could, and barely kept the ends touching. I put travel as my focus and explored the in between places that we forget connect the U.S., explored the hubs of culture and business, and the cities that have been left behind by the changing economy.

I’m not a slacker anymore.

In November, I went to Joshua Tree National Park with 14 other members of the Project Mojave community.

It was a gorgeous experience. The sun was beautiful, the scenery picturesque, the company vibrant and the energy remarkable.

The Carl that showed up at Project Mojave was ready to sit, engage when needed, and then walk away having gleaned enough but not immersed fully.

The Carl that left was ready to cancel a trip to Korea (which fell through anyways–my fault) and hunker down and work. Work hard. Escape from a prison with a spoon hard.

Yes, work.

That word made dirty by Tim Ferriss in the Four Hour Workweek. That thing we should outsource at all costs and separate from our lives so we can pursue the whims of our interests. That’s what I wanted to do.

And that’s what I’ve done for the past couple months since I left the desert. Worked. Hard.

Recently, a friend posted to Facebook a quandary about her current career situation, and she noted that she had never really given something it her all. She posed the question:

What Could I Do If I Worked Hard At It?

Working as hard for your love as you possibly can puts you in a place of utter vulnerability. On the surface, I’m afraid of not being able to pay for rent, groceries, cat vet care, etc. You know, it’s a nice feeling to be able to contribute to NPR and WCPE. Deeper down, I crave approval and fear the critical eyes of all who view creative expression. I fear failure.

If you never really try your hardest, you can never completely fail. There’s safety in that. If you never commit to something, you can never really lose anything. I’m sure there are are a plethora of aphorisms which speak against it (“‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” according to Tennyson).

The answer is not to get over fear. That’s impossible. The answer, of course, is to live with fear and move forward anyway. Mistakes will be made. Some people will not like me. I will fail regularly. In fact, all of those will happen even if I continue doing whatever I’m doing now for the rest of my life. But then I’ll have to live with this anxiety, and I don’t get to experience the calm from my life being harmonious with my values.

R.B.

This resonated deeply with me. I’ve been at it only for a couple months now, and sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had been at it for the eight years since I graduated High School. But there’s no working hard in memories.

Working hard is just as important as working smart and effectively. Perhaps in the long run even more important.

Men are made stronger on realization that the helping hand they need is at the end of their own arm.

Sidney J. Phillips

Ask yourself this:

What Could I Do If I Worked Hard At It?

What could you accomplish if you dedicated yourself to something? If you breathed, slept, lived it–if you let it consume you?

What would our country be like if people worked hard at changing their lives to create value in their life, in their community, in their country, in the world?

What if we gave up on looking good, appeasing lobbyists and putting on airs, and instead concentrated on hard work that mattered?

Not work that lined our pockets or our bank accounts, or gave golden parachutes to bank executives. The kind of work that creates value for others, that improves lives on the ground, that will leave the world a little bit better off than when you came into it.

What Could You Do If You Worked Hard At Something?

Flickr photo by Patrick.