My Goal is My Cuppycake

Not exaggerating: it took literally eighty attempts to get this shot

Have you met my cuppycake? Her name is Noelie and she is extremely gray and fluffy and she has golden eyes and she loves to kiss everything and everyone and climb on the dog. I love her. I mean, you think you love your pet, but no way do you love your animals as much as I love Noelle. It is this love that we should feel toward our treasured goals.

Goal love / pet love comparison chart:

Would do anything for her
Think about her all day, every day
Make all my plans based around her needs
Talk about her constantly
Keep a million pictures and videos of her on my phone
Work her into every conversation
Expect everyone to love her as much as I do, and if they don't, it's their loss
Sometimes people are afraid of her and I can't figure out why
Money is no object - whatever she needs, she gets
Don't really care when she chews up my stuff
Sometimes she is loud and demanding but I love her anyway
When other people fall in love with her, we become instant best friends
There is no reason why everyone couldn't have a cuppycake just like mine
In fact, I highly recommend it

Substitute 'her' and 'she' with 'my goal' and see if it still works.

Goals are BS, really. A goal is a simple, small, bite-size step toward a consuming vision. Unfortunately, we are often quite dumb when we choose goals. We make public proclamations that we are committing to goals we don't really like or want. We choose goals based on what we think we should do. When the goal is true, when the goal is just a minor, obvious obstacle between you and the vision, "should" doesn't matter. Sometimes the vision requires things we "shouldn't" do. According to naysayers, we shouldn't do anything other than complain, consume mass entertainment, and sit on our butts.

These are some things I've done in service of my larger goals:
Sleep on the floor
Sleep in my car
Run in the snow, rain, and hail
Carry fifty pounds on my back
Limp for eight miles
Climb 3300 feet
Eat when I wasn't hungry
Delay meals until my hands shook
Keep going despite an open wound
Work through a four-day migraine
Cry in the elevator, then wipe my eyes and go back to work
Give away all my stuff
Kick a 50-pound suitcase with a broken handle through two airport terminals
Get inoculated
Scrub toilets and change diapers
Pay money I didn't want to spend
Take orders from mean people I didn't like
Work all night (many times)
Work in a tent
Work on a plane
Work in a hotel
Work through meals
Work with four devices open
Quit doing things I enjoyed to free up time for my goal

When my goal is my cherished fluffy little pet, it's worth it. When I really want something to happen, when I really really want something I can't just buy at a store, which is almost everything worth having, then I'll do what it takes. No question. On the other hand, when my "goal" is a pseudo-goal that I actually hate, then nothing can get me moving on it.

I never lost weight when I had contempt for fit, attractive, or fashionable people, but I did it almost instantly when I decided to run the marathon.

I never had any money when I had contempt for wealthy people, but it was fairly straightforward when I developed a burning desire to be independent.

I could never get organized when I associated it with criticism and perfectionism, but I did it quickly when I realized it would help me accomplish awesome things like traveling the world.

The difference there is that I moved toward something I saw as attractive, exciting, and much better than where I was when I started. Just like most people will move quickly toward a tray of free pastries, a goal should be shiny, sweet, and delicious to you. Whereas, when a goal is distasteful, onerous, or irrelevant, "trying" is failing. It's the difference between cuddling my cute little cuppycake, or pet-sitting someone's obnoxious, spoiled little monster. No thanks. You can't wait until it's gone, and many people choose goals that they secretly wish would run away.

There are tradeoffs. One goal is often mutually exclusive with another goal, just as my cuppycake keeps me from having a cat. A goal sometimes requires its own living standards, just as not everyone will rent to us or give us a hotel room due to our menagerie. A goal sometimes comes with a surprisingly large number of unwieldy accessories, and you know what I mean if you've ever cleaned a birdcage. When your goal is your true heart's delight, you take it in stride.

I have pets because I can't help myself. I'm smitten. The times when I haven't had pets, part of me has been empty and listless. It's the same with goals. They show up and we're helpless, hopeless, willing slaves of our own dreams. We're never the same afterward. They make our lives and our hearts bigger. Get one, go nuts, dote on it, and love it and squeeze it until it squeaks.

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