The unfinished ghosts that haunt us
Do any unfinished projects haunt you? I did a quick inventory this week. It looked like this:
Ok, some of these ghosts don’t scary-stalk me. But some of them I give a nod to — they still live upstairs in the attic. Heck, one of them IS the attic.
When you list your unfinished projects, which ones do you still feel in your bones? Which other ones you endlessly defer, but can’t quite break up with? And which ones linger, but don’t need to if you could just make peace with them?
To clear some cobwebs, I recommend periodically checking in with your unfinished projects. You can try this brief mental exercise — let’s call it the “Anticipatory Regret Visualization.” (Not exactly spa-retreat material, but bear with me.)
It goes something like this: I visualize myself settling into my golden years, talking to a young person. We could be on a porch at sunset. Let’s make it a porch near a beach at sunset.
Young person asks, “Is there anything you would do differently in your life? Is there anything you regret?”
Then, I try out different hypothetical answers — using my unfinished projects to fill in the blanks.
Would I say: “You know, I regret never organizing my favorite recipes into a binder”?
Nah. I can’t imagine I’ll hold onto regrets about uncollected recipes.
Onto another one. Would I say: “I regret not finishing that book on the ‘business of creativity’ that I quit my job to write?”
I don’t think so. But, still, there’s a clue in my uncertainty. One part of that unfinished project still gives me pause: the book part.
So, while I have gotten over not finishing that creativity book, I have a strong feeling that I would regret never finishing some book in the coming years. And that, my friends, is information — in the form of anticipatory regret — that is useful and motivating to me today.
If you look into psychology studies of regret, people’s biggest regrets fixate on what they haven’t done rather than what they have done. The thought is that action causes short-term pain while inaction more often creates long-term feelings. The un-done lingers (like the undead?!)
In doing my inventory, I’ve acknowledged that the idea of writing a book still means something to me. Of the unfinished ghosts hovering around me, a book project is one I’ll continue to keep on my No Regrets to-do list.
Unfinished projects that have a hold on us are restless beasts. Their mysterious beauty lies in their tendency to transfigure.
The book I might start today or 5 years from now is not the book I started (and didn’t finish) 7 years ago. But they wind around each other, their underground roots sharing soil, but coming above ground as different creatures.
What about you? Is there an unfinished project haunting you? Does it reverberate when you run it through the “Anticipatory Regret Visualization”?
* The not-so-secret subtext of my own unfinished project (yes, I mean Finish It itself) is that I’m as much in love with those nagging, disheveled unfinished projects as the proud, buttoned-up finished ones. Unfinished projects represent hope to me the — brush your shoulders off won’t go away no matter how many times they get squashed — kind of hope. In Matt Haig’s words, “Nothing is stronger than a small hope that doesn’t give up.”