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It’s too late to collect sand
When I was 13, my family went to California. We walked along a beach near Mendocino. I’d never seen black sand before. I wanted to bring some home.
So I got a ziplock bag from my mom, scooped some sand into it, and put it in my backpack.
When I got back to Birmingham, I put it in a jar and placed it on my bookshelf. “Cool,” I thought.
But I only had one jar. It wasn’t going to be “Really Cool” until I had a bunch of jars.
I was missing the jar of sand from the Gulf of Mexico. I was missing the jar of sand from the Caribbean. I was missing the jar of sand from the Eastern Shore in Virginia.
“I’ve been to so many beaches already! And I never collected sand before now.”
So I scrapped the whole idea. What was the point in collecting jars of sand when I hadn’t started from the beginning? I’d never recover from missing the jars I could’ve already had.
What a ridiculous thought.
I fall for this trap repeatedly.
“I haven’t been keeping a journal since childhood, I’m missing so much.”
“I didn’t blog the first half of my trip, so what’s the point in the second half?”
“I haven’t been keeping track of contacts in a CRM, I’m missing so many people!”
“I haven’t been running, I’m so far behind.”