I remembered sitting on a rigid black armchair in the middle of a makeshift auditorium of sorts, huddled in the open space of a reception area. I was there for a panel with students with refugee status in Canada — I absentmindedly looked up at a poster engrossing at least half the wall, its bold-faced font screamed high-school motivational poster material, its colourful accentuation of certain words carried obtuse ebullience. One line of this corny poster caught me eye:
If you are looking for the love of your life, stop; they will be waiting for you when you start doing things you love.
Having read my share of motivational posters, this did not make any profound impact on me, but this one line has lurked stealthily in the back of my mind. It was not the first part of the sentence that appealed to me, but rather, the second. Sure, the first part can be mesmerizing, but the second part resembled an uplifting of quiet action, a reminder of aspiration, conviction, hope.
I have been thinking a lot of a new year reflection, one I tend to make private in the abyss of my sprawling drafts, never seeing the day of light, making its appearance only once during my yearly reflection of a life lived. This quote, for some inexplicable reason, still wades in the pool of my introspection. It incites a sense of stillness, it does not ask for the chase. It asks us first to do things we love.
Perhaps it’s some last minute inspiration from Obama’s newest book A Promised Land, I feel this surge to make this cheesy poster line an anchor of my new year. Reading about his tribulations, reluctance to become a politician, but finding himself elevated to the centre stage of political mastery, perhaps it wasn’t the love of his life to be a wield political power, but his belief in a better world for the “promise of America”, people of colour, the underdogs. Maybe it’s not only to do things we love, but also to do things with love. It is a privilege to get to do things we love, but I don’t believe that every moment can be done with things we love; the lofty goals we might have require tasks that do not seem to be things we love. Ascending to the highest office in the country required him to do things he did not always love, but he did them for the greater love that he believed in.
Some decisions we make are used to justify the decisions we have already made — we ourselves become part of a self-fulfilling prophecy in order to allow us prove to ourselves — and others — that we made the right call. We might convince ourselves that these are things we love. I think back to this year, how the most significant and imprinting moments of my life came from my myopic focus on doing what I loved, and who I want to love and serve. Everything else fell into place. Too often, I have mistaken distractions for love. Maybe that will be goal for this year, focus back on what I care about, the love I want to serve, and just let the pieces fall.
