I’ve always been the type of person who wanted to do something well or not at all. Looking back, I realize how much that’s limited me and how many experiences I watched from the sidelines instead of leaping in. I try not to do that anymore, a lesson I learned from my two English Cocker Spaniels.
From the start, Hoover and Dashiell made it obvious that they had not been bred to be retrievers. I’d throw a ball into the bushes or a snow bank and they would circle around it over and over and over again, their noses coming within inches of the ball each time without managing to sniff it out.
“Find the ball,” I would admonish again and again. With renewed relish, the hunt would recommence, tails wagging even more furiously this time around. More often than not, if they actually located the ball I’d thrown it was because they’d stepped on it during their search and rescue mission. It’s a good thing they’ve never had to find me in a storm. I would have surely perished but they sure would have had fun.
Even though they suck at finding anything, except maybe for food, they love the game. Watching them over the years has taught me that we have to learn to enjoy the process rather than to focus merely on the result. Sure writing that book may take five times longer than you ever expected it to. Love that process and who cares. You’ll keep writing as you wag your tail and your book or project will eventually get done because for better or worse, you are not a Cocker Spaniel.
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