I love my new sneakers.
I love them so much I couldn’t wait to put them on this afternoon and go walk somewhere…anywhere. Just so I could wear them.
This is a big deal.
Because it’s really difficult for me to find comfortable shoes. I have a wide toe box, a narrow heel, and no arch. I’d resigned myself to a life of bare feet, flip flops, and UGG boots!
But the gym won’t let me in without sneakers and I threw away all my painful pairs—which was every pair—in a spasm of self-care.
So this weekend I went shopping for a great pair of sneakers.
But not a Perfect pair. Because I don’t do that.
Perfection
It’s nuts to seek perfection and expect to find it. At least, it drove me nuts until I tried something else.
Instead of looking for Perfect, I look for a perfect fit: What suits my purpose, my priorities, and my budget at the moment. Which makes sense because what’s perfect for me now may not be perfect for me a year from now…or even 15 minutes from now.
And that’s the thing about Perfect. With everything forever and always changing, Perfect is a perpetually moving target. I’ve got better things to do than chase down something so ephemeral that even when it’s caught it can’t be kept.
So I shop with purpose but without expectation, both skeptical and hopeful, willing to be surprised and also disappointed.
And by knowing what I want, but not what I’m looking for, I find things I never would have imagined.
Like these great sneakers.
Compromise
The thing about them is I went looking for crosstrainers but came home with running shoes.
I don’t run—and won’t unless chased—but my husband said they’d be just the thing. And, indeed, they fit well, have lots of cushion and support, and are so comfy I forget I have them on.
They’re an unfortunate shade of gray with lavender stripes, but how they look doesn’t affect how they work. Color was an easy compromise when they fit my Purpose, Priorities, and Price.
That said, if they’d been neon pink, I wouldn’t have bought them regardless of the rest. If I hate how they look I’ll hate wearing them despite how well they—literally and figuratively—fit.
Because along with everything else that matters most, there’s Preference. So while I could buy a fine pair of pepto-shoes, they’d stay on a shelf in my closet instead of on my feet in the gym. That, or I’d be self-conscious and unhappy on the treadmill.
And so it is with shopping: I can be walking contentedly through Compromise Country and in the next instant I’m feeling real shitty in Sacrifice City.
So I don’t do that.
Governments collapse, economies dissolve, businesses fold, marriages fail, and souls are lost because people don’t realize when they’re settling for too little or giving up too much.
I can’t emphasize enough how important it is to know where compromise ends and sacrifice begins.
Because.
Living a purposeful life requires a lot of shopping.
That is to say, living on purpose requires us to—
- Decide what we want,
- Clarify our priorities,
- Draw lines between what we will and won’t do,
- Honor our preferences, and
- Make choices that align with our intentions.
Or Shop, for short.
So.
We need to Shop for our brilliant business idea.
For the products and services we’ll offer.
And for the customers and clients who’ll buy them.
For the tools that will run our business.
And for the partners and vendors we’ll work with.
And especially for the colleagues and friends that will have our back.
We need to Shop for our car, our clothes, our home, our partner, our friends, and maybe even our faith.
We need to Shop because otherwise we’re just buying, or buying into, the first thing we see.
Or what’s easiest.
Or what’s shiniest.
Or what everyone else is doing.
Or what the cool kids are using.
Or what costs the least. Or costs the most.
And that would mean we’re trusting in impulse, fate, luck, and other people to define our lives.
And we don’t do that.
Right?
.
Photo credit: Adidas
