While the phrase “drawing a line in the sand” has two debated origins, for the sake of brevity, let’s go with the one that resonates with me more—the Roman origin. Popillius Laenas, a Roman general, was sent with clear instructions from the Roman Senate to stop Antiochus IV Epiphanes, the King of the Seleucid Empire, from advancing on Alexandria in Egypt. After reading the official decree, Antiochus responded by saying he would first consult his generals. Laenas, however, was stern. He drew a circle in the sand around the king and said, “Before you step out of that circle, give me a reply to lay before the Senate.” Astounded by the peremptory order, Antiochus hesitated but eventually agreed, saying, “I will do what the Senate thinks right.”
So, the phrase “draw a line in the sand” has come to mean setting a definitive boundary or making a firm decision that cannot be reversed. This is probably a good juncture for me to ask you: Are you familiar with drawing any such lines in your life? If you’re anything like me—a chronic people pleaser for most of my teens and twenties—chances are there aren’t as many as you would like. Experience tells me that there are two types of lines to be drawn. The first is to draw a line against others—perhaps those who have walked all over you because you were too concerned about disappointing or hurting their feelings at the expense of your own. The second, and the one that is likely more difficult to draw, involves drawing a line against yourself or your patterns of self-sabotage that you’ve allowed to take over for far too long.
When we take a brutally honest look at ourselves, we often find that we’ve let others trample over us—not because they meant to, but because we haven’t set boundaries for ourselves. And we cease setting boundaries because we are often guilty of breaking the ones we had set in the past. This inconsistency between what we tell ourselves we will do and what we actually do is the intention-action gap. The narrower this gap, the greater our self-confidence; the wider it is, the lower our self-confidence.
You tell yourself that this is the year you’ll get in shape, only to find that it’s the umpteenth time you’ve made that promise, and you’re more out of shape than ever. Eventually, you start to wonder if it’s better to stop making these hollow promises altogether, thereby avoiding the disappointment of yet another unfulfilled goal.
Now, the reason for this ever-widening gap is, more often than not, a lack of a system. It is the missing piece that ensures you execute on your commitments independent of the short-lived motivation you had when making them. Without it, the mind becomes easy prey for shiny object syndrome (SOS). You start a project with all the enthusiasm in the world, only to abandon it for the next flashy idea that captures your attention. Take this very blog you’re reading, for example. It’s a year overdue, considering I planned it back in June last year.
If you’re a longtime follower of my Instagram page, you know I always have tons to say, given my introspective nature. My photography often serves as a Trojan horse for self-expression, and I therefore thought it fitting to write photo essays inspired by the photos I take on my photo walks. The plan was that these photo essays would serve as the perfect segue into my YouTube and Instagram videos because they would serve as scripts for them.
Alas, my old “friend,” shiny object syndrome, intervened. This time, it was the revival of film photography on Instagram. If you’re a photographer or filmmaker reading this, you can probably tell that much of my recent video work emulates film. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it for its timeless, nostalgic feeling, but learning it has come at the expense of my well-thought-out plan, which I just elaborated on. Instead of scripting and continuing with my YouTube series, I spent my little free time learning to emulate film.
This diversion reminds me of an incident from the life of my Guru, Pramukh Swami Maharaj, where officials recommended that the relief efforts of the government be taken over by the organization he led, www.baps.org, as a result of how it went about providing social relief during the 1987-88 drought in India, which affected 300 million people. He responded, “Even if they want to give it to us, we’re not ready to accept. We have come to worship God and help others do the same.” His life demonstrates the importance of remaining laser-focused on our goals.
Examples from my life, and possibly yours, are littered with the opposite. Instead of making commitments only to ourselves (or an accountability partner if that works for you), we voice our lofty intentions among those whose respect we seek, engaging in what amounts to mental masturbation—feeling good in the moment for achieving things we never actually go on to achieve.
Now, I can’t attribute the delay in executing my plan solely to this diversion (or at least that is what I tell myself); I’ve also had to move my life from one continent to another during this period. But that only further underscores the importance of being laser-focused in its execution.
Passion pursuits often don’t have much room to breathe between a 9-to-5 job, mandir (temple) commitments, and relationship commitments. If anything, we use these as excuses for not seeing them through. But that’s a discussion for another day.
Circling back to the topic, the consequence of letting this gap between intention and action widen is always a knock to your confidence because confidence relies on an undeniable stack of evidence to substantiate your stance.
Now, while the previous example I just shared demonstrates an incident from my life that dented my self-confidence (until now, anyway, as you reading this is proof of me trying to close that gap), I also have many that have infused confidence in myself. After pursuing my passion for creating with my camera for just under a decade, I now have ample evidence to support my claim of being a photographer, YouTuber, and perhaps even a writer (though not a good one).
However, there was a time before this period when my dreams of following a creative path were often unintentionally trampled by those whose respect I desperately sought. It was a time when carrying a camera came with a great deal of shame because I had no evidence to back my dreams. Their claims that I had greater potential than “just shooting around with a camera” triumphed because I lacked the confidence and vision that would otherwise have been there had there been even just a trace of evidence to back my vision.
I could not assert that I would bring about positive change in myself, others, and the world through my camera by photographing the everyday ordinary around me. I could not assert that it would inspire me to write photo essays that would, in turn, serve as the basis for my YouTube videos, films, and more. This, of course, is a challenge not unique to me; it is one that countless others have faced and will face in pursuing a passion and purpose that inevitably leads to an untrodden path, often against society’s expectations. It may be one that you are facing right now.
With these challenges and experiences behind me, I now have a stack of evidence to prove my seriousness about this calling. The self-confidence I now possess is largely unencumbered by others’ opinions. Instead, it is rooted in my congruency—between my conscience, which I believe to be the voice of my Guru and God, and my actions.
So, this is a friendly reminder from someone who has struggled—and continues to struggle—with setting boundaries: If you want to build a life you will look back on with pride, one lived in alignment with your conscience and therefore without regrets, then you will have to draw a line in the sand. Perhaps not just one, but many. And those lines will draw themselves once you stop self-sabotaging yourself. And you stop self-sabotaging yourself by building a compounding stack of evidence. It will speak for who you are without you and when that does happen, you will kick yourself for not realizing that earlier.
Until the next one.
Oh, and remember, be ever in pursuit of your purpose on the heels of passion.
If you haven’t found your passion, then be ever in pursuit of it on the heels of curiosity.
Abhay.