I should have said no this afternoon.
A good and enthusiastic person wants me to sustain a project we need to shut down. It's a good and useful thing and we don't have the resources to sustain it. We're doing other good and useful things that need our time, attention, and energy with a greater probability of success. Nonetheless, I gave it an hour and energy I needed to write this post.
I know better than to do that. My last post asserted my second favorite word is no. I wrote about saying, no, in order to be all in on the things I say, yes, to. I should have said, no, to reconsidering that project, in order to be all in on this.
I'm here now.
It was hard to say no because
The person asking for the, yes, is a good person with a passion for the project;
The project would meet an important need;
I have a personal interest in the project and experience some grief in letting it go.
Here's the hardest one. There's a high probability we can't make it happen to the level it needs to be sustainable. Yet, it's not impossible it could be a hit.
The basic equation for flight is that lift plus thrust has to overcome load plus drag. This project has too much drag. Even if we can lift it. It will need accelerating thrust.
It's possible.
Possibility is the hardest to assess and the hardest to let go. Especially if, want, is involved. No, is certain. Yes, feeds that feathery thing called hope.
In the quiet of the morning, in the middle of a cup of coffee, my deep knowing is no.
Last week, I wrote about our unconscious, no, already having the wisdom -- if we can find it. This week I got a great, no, from someone I admire, and I know admires me, and who found his no, "I love the idea but it is something I am not ready to do at this point."
My unconscious, no, shows up in still aloneness.
Where is yours?
Warm regards,
Francis Sopper
REFERENCED IN THIS LETTER:
Hope:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42889/hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers-314