What if it is possible?

Worrying might help us feel safe but, if we can be open to the possibility of letting go, we can make space for trusting ourselves and for living more.

One of my kids has been interested in Pokémon for many months now. It’s a topic that I once would have quickly dismissed, either with I have no idea what any of it means or what is the point of something so commercialized. But, as I’ve been open to learning more and looking at the cute, scary, and weird little creatures, I’m amazed by their creativity and depth.

Just as I admire writers who create fascinating characters with words and sentences, I’m in awe of the way that Pokémon have been created with specific and surprising characteristics and abilities. How do people imagine so many creatures in such a variety of shapes, sizes, and materials?

As much as I secretly wish to be a Pokémon creator, I don’t actually know a lot about them and, while the game is fairly straightforward, I don’t get all the nuances of the different cards and what they can do. My Pokémon loving kid knows so much about the topic that I wonder if there is anything I know about in as much detail. It can be easy to minimize the value of this kind of knowledge. It’s a not a revered school subject and isn’t essential to the rest of life. But when our minds are full of the proper things that everyone must learn we forget what how amazing it is to be free to learn so much about something just because you enjoy it.

My kids have had ample practice spending time doing things they enjoy and yet I worry constantly about whether they are learning enough and if our life on this unusual path of unschooling is giving them what they need. I find myself like moving through life carrying a heavy backpack of doubt and uncertainty, while it seems that everyone else is walking easily to the top of the mountain. Then I add more doubt and uncertainty to my load wondering what I am doing wrong.

Sometimes, when the doubts become overwhelming, I crumble for a bit. It is part of my process. Then, if I’m lucky, I remember the bumper sticker I bought at the Common Ground Fair many years ago. Encourage your hopes, not your fears stuck on the back of my car for all the drivers behind me to see.

Encourage your hopes, not your fears is a glimmer, a momentary opening that reminds me to ask questions when things feel difficult or uncertain. I can appreciate affirmations that remind me of my abilities and potential but affirming statements immediately make me doubtful. How do I know I am right where I am supposed to be? How do I know I won’t be given more than I can handle? So I turn them into questions, again inviting my mind to open to other possibilities.

What if I don’t need to worry all the time? What if I am right where I need to be?

I’ve had so many conversations with friends, brilliant women who care so much, wondering if things will turn out okay, if we are doing it the right way, if we will ever get to where we think we should be. These thoughts and conversations are part of how we move through life and slowly grow into who we are, but the swirling doubts also take up a lot of time and energy. What if we worried less? Would we have more space for trusting ourselves, more energy for creativity and connecting with others, more time for rest or adventure?

And what if we hold onto these worries, these flimsy kick boards that keep us paddling in circles, because we feel like worrying is what keeps us safe? When we let go and plop into the deep water for a moment, we might realize that we can swim much farther than we thought.

In this interview , Dr. Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, a marine biologist and climate advocate suggests that climate messaging is less important than asking, What do we want to make? What future do we want to create? What’s our role in shaping it? These questions are so valuable in our own lives, as we often forget that the future is not already decided and that we don’t have to force ourselves into a predetermined mold.

On the days when I can swim away from my doubts and worries, I get a glimpse of the freedom that comes from years unlearning so many rules and shoulds. I can find space to ask these questions and consider how I might create and shape the future I dream of. We may not always make our wildest dreams come true but what if we can stay open to possibilities?

One of my kids hasn’t yet mastered traditional spelling rules but uses phonetic spelling really well. I read a note or story they have written and I can easily figure out the words plae, flouer, dae, rainbo, based on pronunciation. These versions of words wouldn’t be easy to find in the dictionary, but they spill onto the paper in excited writing.

It has taken years of inner work to feel just a little less worried about whether they will ever learn to spell and what will happen if they know way more about Pokémon than algebra, and I am forever grateful that I’ve had to go through this struggle of unlearning.

The opposite of worry, for me, is trust. Trust that you will be able to combine letters into words that someone will understand. Trust that the thing you enjoy, a card game of unbelievable creatures, is worthwhile. Trust that we can throw away the rules and find the way that works for us. Trust that asking questions is a way to find possibilities. Trust that we can encourage our hopes, however tenuous and uncertain, to grow into something solid enough to hold us.

Warmly,

Anna