sticky commitment

Sticky commitment is constant inquiry.

I’m not referring to blind commitment when one simply follows for followings sake. That is rooted in fear. Its vision is narrow, the scope is tiny and the world is scary. The realm of blind commitment, aside from the current path, has few options and all of those will bring ruin. Blind commitment may bring demise anyway. You wouldn’t jump off a bridge if your friends did, would you? Maybe so if you were blind, scared and option-less.

Personally, I cannot subscribe to blind commitment in any form. My world is limitless and I prefer it that way.

Sticky commitment reveres options, the unlimited, the mystery, everything known, and unknowable. It recognizes that there is always opportunity. It is constant inquiry. It is constant wondering. It is always dreaming. It recognizes that no choice is absolute, the world unfolds a buffet of possibility, and an individual has the power to command destiny.

And what does that have to do with commitment? In such an expansive world, how can anyone just choose one?

In most things, we don’t have to. I have many passions and support as many as I can; kids, family, husband, travel, climbing, painting, writing, sustainability, creativity, teaching, education, salsa dancing, fitness, cooking, wining and dining. Of course, there is an ebb and flow, like the ocean waves crashing one after the other as one takes priority and then another. They compete and I question, but ultimately we balance. My passions serve my varied facets. Life is abundant. And I’m committed.

Other times it is necessary to choose one. My husband, for example, is a singular choice. Of course our vows, made almost ten years ago, commit and bind us. Our children form a bond stronger than any adhesive. But he is not off the hook and I will not play blind. There is constant inquiry in our relationship. Could we be better? How? What is our goal? Is it worth it? Would it work better this way? Can we change and how? I examine us, dissect us, probe our construction, diagnose the failures, reengineer and reassemble the parts. If we move this part would we work better? What if?

Don’t think it isn’t painful. Don’t think I never yell. Don’t think I’m confident that we can’t ever break down. Remember there is mystery, chaos, the impenetrable.

That is the nature of sticky commitment. We place a microscope on ourselves and bravely scrutinize. We do not know the answers before we ask the questions. Sometimes it leads to loss, pain, fear, regrowth and eventually a new found gift or delight. But the resilient passions and the persevering loved ones are powerful. These deserve our sticky commitment.