I met a man named Paul who owns an impossibly adorable little British car called a Riley Elf. His was built in 1964, and he had it shipped from England to his home near Pittsburgh a few years ago.
Seeing one of the less than ten Rileys in the US was a special moment for me, and it was fun to imagine whizzing down a backroad or zipping around in a city in his tiny gem of a car.
As I talked with Paul, he said that nearly the first thing many people say to him at car shows is, “Boy, I wouldn’t want to be in a crash in that car!”. To which he usually replies, “I didn’t really buy it to crash it” He smoothly delivered the quip with a wry smile that told me it was a well-practiced line that drew laughs, mine included.
As you hear that line, I will assume you might defend the tired observation of fearing crashes. Let go of your protective reflex that says, “Well, you have to be ready for crashes!” Or “Still, you have to think about those crashes!” Let me ask you, have you ever heard someone list the reasons they got their car and they say, “We really loved the look of it and the gas mileage, oh and boy, we can’t wait to crash it!”
It got me thinking about many of the people I talk to today. We’re good at finding problems and zeroing in on what must be avoided. Rehearsing the fears that might happen. Pointing out where a flaw might someday emerge. Until we have entirely forgotten the point of moving forward.
Finding problems as a life
The origin of a problem-finding mindset hijacking our lives is hard to uncover, but many of us slide into it naturally with age. Maybe it’s a scarcity mindset, a negativity bias, or preferring to be a contrarian in conversations because it feels like many people have outrun us or might. I mean, look at them with their relaxed enjoyment of life. They should hear about crashes; I’m just the person to tell them.
The origin isn’t that interesting, but living differently might be. If we live life looking for its problems, we might find them all — but completely miss life. Like a person missing the point of a car not being to crash it or protect ourselves from any potential crashes, but to enjoy our trips, we can sacrifice a great deal of life fearing its potential harm.
If we live life looking for its problems, we might find them all — but completely miss life.
Hearing people dissect the potential issues with something has a whithering effect on us and is usually built on the false premise that there aren’t issues with everything.
Are we in this life merely to avoid its pitfalls or potential problems, or are we in it to live it with its problems and pitfalls? Above in this article, the advertising tagline for the Riley says, “Magnificent motoring in miniature!” At the intersection with anything, we have a choice to find the joy that moves us forward or find the thing to avoid.
“Magnificent motoring in miniature!” To me, it sounds fun. Imperfect and slightly risky fun. Which is life in miniature. Be well, Feral Souls.
