Yes, yes, the very beginning. It’s a very good place to start!

This week kicks off my “Doing” series for October. Before diving into the first topic in the lineup, I should share a small philosophy I have: I think some people are natural do-ers, and some are natural be-ers.

Here’s what I mean: There are people who know how to “be.” They can sit with you for hours and have no concept of time, choosing to relish or wade through the intangible things. They may not seem conventionally productive, and they might have a hard time setting goals or making plans, but they have relationships that go deep and wide. Instead of driving, they drift, and they find the view rather nice. 

On the other hand, I know people who can “do”. They lead the charge, lay groundwork, and make progress of all kinds without much prodding. You may have a hard time tracking down do-ers, because they’re always up to something. If they’ve reached one goal, they’re looking ahead to the next one. Sometimes this progress comes at the cost of their sanity, but all the same, they know how to take care of business.

This is by no means scientific. I’m merely an observer, but the patterns of doing vs. being consistently challenge me. As human beings, I’d argue, we are meant both to do and to be, moving into new territory while savoring the experience with others. This can cause internal tension as we strive for some sort of balance or progress in one realm or the other.

This month, I want to address the art of Doing in five different stages. Part 1 is, as you might expect, Beginning.

Beginning. What images come to mind at that word? The opening of a race, with a crowd of eager participants? A quiet, steady sunrise? How about new life, in the budding of a plant or chirping from a bird’s nest?

There’s something fresh and exhilarating about Beginning. It begs to be both met and let go, fought for and prayed over. Adrenaline pumps with expectation as its time comes closer. The sensation isn’t always pleasant, but you hope the joy of Beginning will be so great that you forget the frustration you felt to prepare. As your heart races, you try to remember to step forward at the right moment. If you blink, you may miss it.

Confession time: I can have a rough time beginning.

Whatever the task is, I think my mind jumps into the necessary steps of the whole process, and sometimes I want to rush to the experience of finishing. I want to be prepared. I want to feel ready, like I’m poised for a seamless launch. I hope that the vision of the end result is enough to drive me for the journey.

While I imagine the possibilities, I sometimes misinterpret the invitation to begin as a threat to my stability. Instead of the sweet, alluring voice of opportunity, I see a hazy, threatening unknown. I sometimes fail to believe that I can make it to the end, or that I can even do enough to make it worth the start. If I begin, I don’t know where I’ll end.

But where will I end if I don’t begin?

Do I want to settle for here, always, without movement? Am I willing to accept this state of being without tasting anything else? Do I want to sit with this mind, this heart, without a challenge or evolution of character?

Sure, there are lots of options… but do I have the gumption to begin in order to find them?

By God’s grace, with hope, I practice meeting Beginning, and crossing into its unknown.

The funniest fact to me is that, in hindsight, I usually regret refusing to begin more than I ever regret beginning something with a little fear. After all, that’s where my courage muscles get practice, right?

Here’s to Beginning, whether it’s a new month or a new pet project. May the first step never intimidate us to the point that we reject it instead of give it our best shot.

How do you interact with Beginning? What makes a Beginning easy or difficult for you? Drop your thoughts here, and visit again next week for the progression to the long, arduous stage that often follows Beginning: “Chipping Away.”