My family goes to the same beach every summer, and we stay in a house that is located one block from the ocean. We walk across the street to the sand, often leaving our flip flops at the end of the boardwalk rather than carry them as we go on a walk.
It’s been commonly accepted that no one is going to steal them. The beach access is public, but generally, we’re in a safe area. But this last visit, I took my flip flops off at the foot of the stairs only to have them stolen.
My feet are pretty big, so it’s unlikely someone took them to wear. So, I checked the dunes beside the boardwalk to see if they’d been thrown over the railing as a prank. However, I didn’t look long. I’d purchased these flip flops four years earlier, and they were pretty cheap.
In fact, they couldn’t have cost me more than $10, which may be why I shrugged when they were gone. Another member of my family has a much more expensive pair of flip flops. (Admittedly, that pair’s sole wore much better than mine did.) She doesn’t leave them at the foot of the boardwalk. She carries them.
These stolen flip flops made me think about some of my other attachments. Obviously, I didn’t place a great deal of value on a pair of $10 flip flops. They were easily replaced, and that made me think it could be helpful if my attitude toward losing them could be transferred to some other losses I’ve had recently.
We all have dreams and goals. We have things we want or expect to achieve, and then we fail or fall short. As a result, we experience pain. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could treat these losses like a pair of cheap flip flops that we can just shrug off?
There is a fairly obvious problem with doing this. Specifically, the value of the work we put into writing a book or launching a business or reaching a fitness goal is more than just $10. If you paid yourself just $10/ hour while pursuing these goals, the total would be considerably more than that.
Our efforts can entail hundreds, if not thousands of hours. And we can agree, most people would carry $100 pair flip flops down the beach for miles (no matter the inconvenience).
I’m not suggesting that we should treat our dreams like a pair of cheap flip flops. But I am saying that life will treat your dreams and your goals like a cheap pair of flip flops. Life will steal them.
* * *
How you react may be in proportion to our passion. This might tell us that passion can be dangerous and that it can offer pleasure and sorrow in equal measure. If we limit passion, can we also limit pain? Will we then restrict joy?
If flip flops have no value, then we have no pain. We have lost nothing. If we place value on our flops, then we might have reason to worry. Will they be stolen?
Maybe we should start to question whether our passions deserve so much value in the first place. It’s not that they aren’t important or even essential because they are. But if we can view our dreams and goals as somewhat less than precious, we might find ourselves less than bothered when we face failure or rejection.
photo: Peter Hershey