That Time I Was Lost In The Desert

The Art of Knowing Your Why (Part 2)

I got lost in the desert once. Literally. I was a Private First Class in the U.S. Army, officially an Intelligence Analyst attached to an aviation unit for the purpose of this particular exercise. In reality, I was the driver and all around gopher for the captain assigned to collect and manage intelligence for his unit. All of this was fine by me because a) I was young and excited for the experience (despite the fact that I had no idea what the experience entailed; and b) I had no choice. I was a private.

On this particular day, I only had to drive the aviation captain from his headquarters to a command post some five miles or so away and back again. No problem, right? Simple navigation, right? Follow the road, get there, good job soldier. Yeah.

To this day, I have no idea how we actually arrived at the command post without incident. It was such a smooth operation that I in my young man’s self-confidence thought that surely, I could navigate us back to headquarters without checking the map or asking for directions. Filled with the arrogance of youth and the fear of looking stupid, I decided to wing it. A straight line across the desert would get us back faster and more efficiently. All’s well that ends well, eh? No. 

I mean, ultimately, we made it back safely, despite the ass thumping from driving off-road, in 100° plus temperatures without any supplies. Neither one of us died and I didn't get court martialed, certainly a plus. But for the hour or so that it took to reach headquarters, in my mind, death was inevitable. And if by some stroke of fortune I lived, my short-lived career in the United States Army would surely come to an end.

But there was a valuable lesson to be learned here, beyond not being afraid to ask for directions. As the good captain and I were range-roving over every wadi that existed (think large waves of rock and sand to rival the most egregious potholes), I had to give him credit. The captain didn't yell at me, didn't cuss me out or belittle me in any way. Honestly, he may have been too scared for his life to take such measures. Instead, though, he uttered these words to me:

“Private, it's important that you learn to be honest with yourself." 

Those words didn't mean anything to me then, not until days later, after everything had settled down and I'd had time to process the entire episode. After that though, those words would sound off in my head quite often, mostly after I'd already made a bad choice or questionable decision. But sometimes those words would cause me to give pause, examine motives, think through actions and their inevitable consequences. 

In part one of this two part series on knowing your why, I wrote about being self-aware. You can read that article HERE. The second part of this process of understanding your why, is being honest with yourself. Really? You didn’t see that coming? Let me explain.

Last summer I found myself in between day jobs, leaving me with what I thought would be a tremendous opportunity to finally get to all of those side hustles I kept telling myself I wanted to start, be my own boss, work my own hours. Be free! Weirdly enough, this didn’t include what I ultimately wanted to do, not directly. I’ll get to that in a bit.

So, I researched opening a print on demand business, selling tee shirts, etc. I mean I was a graphic designer. This was surely in my wheelhouse. And it was, sort of. Designing art for tee shirts and other products was one thing. Running a business was a completely different animal. There are taxes, vendors to manage, customer complaints to field. At the end of the day, after some serious self-examining and questioning of motives, I had to be honest with myself and admit that I didn’t give enough of a crap about print on demand to put the work that it would take into it to make it a success. I had no doubts that I could make it a profitable venture over time, but it would take ALL of my time, leaving zero room for anything else. 

The same for the freelance business I tried pushing. After struggling to figure out how to market myself, dealing with the intricacies of managing clients, justifying the time spent on projects versus payment received, I had to have another heart to heart with myself, concluding that yet again, I didn’t care enough about it to put the work needed into it. 

You might be thinking that all of that seemed like such a waste of time, but I assure you it wasn’t. I needed that. I had been talking about those pursuits for so long, thought that they were what I wanted, but I was wrong. And I needed to be honest with myself about that. I had finally put action behind the talk and put the question to rest, cleared the slate, but leaving me with a serious question: what now?

Well, now, I had to face the hard facts that, for whatever reason, I had been denying the one thing that I truly loved and ran from incessantly, both obsessed over and avoided like the plague: writing. My own writing. And that’s really a large chunk of what this whole article writing thing is for me. Pursuing my own authorship. Writing and publishing fiction isn’t far behind. That’s my end game after all. To write fiction. But in the meantime … 

I was hired as a graphic designer last year because there are still bills to be paid, and I’ve made peace with that. Up to this point, I thought I was pretty knowledgeable in my trade, skilled in the ways of Adobe Illustrator and its ilk. I was so wrong. I found myself working alongside others who were beyond me in skill, knowledge, and experience. Once again, I had to be honest with myself, admitting that I really didn’t know squat about graphic design, at least not next to these guys. I could have quit, run away, looked for something easier. But ultimately, I didn’t. I most certainly had to up my game, but I didn’t quit. I watched many YouTube videos, watched and learned from my fellow designers, until I reached a point where I felt I could at least hold my own. 

Writing is no different, and it’s no different for whatever endeavor you pursue. Unless of course you’re trying out for the Boston Celtics at five foot four inches. You know what? Give it a shot anyway. Failure IS an option and the trying and learning from the result is gold. Giving up is the only unforgivable sin when it comes to pursuing the rogue life, “one step at a time” the only mantra that matters, and continually moving forward, the only direction that counts.  

Thank you for sticking with me through this adventure. I hope you realize you’re not alone in this. There are plenty of us out there struggling through it, falling down, wallowing in self-doubt but ultimately putting our big people pants on, pushing forward and improving with each word, each lyrical note, and stroke of a brush. Don’t stop pursuing your own rogue life and I’ll see you when I see you.