Fix My Eyes.

“I think perfectionism is based in the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won’t have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren’t even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they’re doing it.” (Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott)

I don’t remember where it came from, but about a year ago, I had this parable-like image stuck in my head. Sheep are kind of stupid animals. Left alone, they pretty much look down at the patch of grass they’re eating.

When it’s gone, they look up just enough to see the next piece of grass and move to it. Then they finish eating, they look up again, and move to the next piece, and the next piece, and the next piece…

For a long time, I lived kind of like a sheep.

I wandered from thing to thing without any sense of direction. That’s not necessarily a bad way to live, but it borders on meaningless. It’s easy to meander through the fields of life, but around this time last year, I realized I would never get anywhere that way.

I started asking what I wanted out of life and realized it was the presence of God. In my mind, that’s both now and not yet. It’s a fixed point on the horizon with a journey between us and it, but it also can be experienced on the way. However, getting there takes lifting your eyes from what’s in front of you so you can chart a course and go.

A year ago, I created spiritual disciplines to continuously lift my eyes from my present circumstances and fix them on God. It meant reading my Bible, keeping a journal where I wrote extensive prayers to God, and reading other books that inspired me spiritually.

The point wasn’t self improvement or self discipline, although those were side effects. It was all about lifting my eyes to God, walking towards Him as much as I could, and letting Him take care of the rest.

Then something changed. I can’t peg down a date or a time or even a reason, but I know that the focus of the whole program completely shifted. What began as a way to direct my eyes to God developed into this regimented set of personal disciplines I practiced all of last semester. The recipe went something like this;

1 Journal entry, administered at breakfast each morning.

10 pages each from 3 books (one on spirituality, one on that inspires me, and one that is difficult to read, but worth the time) read daily.

1 to-do list, maintained and used on a daily basis, with a review of it at breakfast each morning.

Minimum 5 Google calendar appointments daily, ranging from classes to work to organized events.

10 minutes of running (or 25 burpees) each morning right after waking up.

1 day of Sabbath each week, which means not setting an alarm and staying away from schoolwork as much as possible.

1 chapter out of 3 different books of the Bible, read daily.

My thought was that if I could do all that, I would be a successful and spiritually healthy person. I figured cultivating these habits would essentially make my life good. I had a destination in mind, but I ran with my head down to make sure every step went perfectly.

The problem was it didn’t work. A few days ago, I was talking to a friend about where we were and where we had been in our spiritual journeys. By the middle of the semester, I looked forward most to reading self-help books (which I’ve always enjoyed), but I dreaded reading my Bible.

It just wasn’t appealing to me. I had a very successful semester, but by the end of it my soul was in a sorry state. I realized, looking back, that I spiritually regressed last semester.

Any attempt to engineer or plan your own [spiritual development] is doomed to failure because it is ego driven….If we seek spiritual heroism ourselves, the old ego is just back in control under a new name. There would not really be any change at all, but only disguise. Just bogus “self-improvement” on our own terms. (Falling Upward, Richard Rohr).

I enjoy personal development, but it’s not the point of my life. What started as a way to direct myself to God became an obsession with the course I was taking. I did everything in my power to avoid even making a single misstep on my course forward, but in doing so I lost sight of the goal I was walking toward.

At the end of the day, I think humans are supposed to be about loving God and loving people. I can stare down at my feet to make sure I’m running perfectly, but it’s only looking at God that will bring my gaze to rest on others, and allow me to love them well. Honestly, I’ve kind of been burnt out on every type of discipline, but I can’t let go of the goal I created them to pursue in the first place.

Originally published at theforlornemoose.wordpress.com on February 11, 2017.