Becoming accustomed to “not winning” has become a way of life. (A thought about rediscovering “doing.”)

You won 13 million in the Lotto, but you don’t know it yet?
The world is full of unclaimed prize-money, inheritances, and insurance policies.
The money is just lying there— waiting to be grabbed, legitimately.
Every day millions of people play the Lotto, or some derivative thereof.
The hope that there will be untold riches in the pipeline exists, but the expectation is certainly realistic.
Many of us have “gambled and lost” so often that becoming accustomed to “not winning” has become a way of life.
“Sure, I’ll play, but only the other guy ever wins! I never bother checking as often as I should.”
“That new job— I expected a glittering prize, or maybe not, but I ended up being disappointed.”
“That new love-interest seemed like a keeper but ended up being a sad story on a dismal Friday Night. I saw the warning signs.”
“My dream car turned into a lemon.I knew it would be bad.”

Sadder than unclaimed prizes is the fear of not using gifts.
You might have that ancient family recipe for mustard in your possession— the one that could be a worldwide cullinary hit!
“Can this work? I know I can do it, but will it work?”
What could you be doing instead of worrying about a potential failure?
And instead of making the family mustard, what could you be doing instead?
Is it “better” to sit through a movie or binge-watch yet another series than to make that recipe?
Yes, I know you need some downtime.
Jack will become a dull boy when he isn’t chilling a bit.
In these hectic times, relaxation is essential for physical and mental well-being.
I’m just saying, instead of beating yourself up about “not achieving” anything, instead, do something else. But begin without slapping hope and expectation onto that “something else” because you reckon it needs to be awesome by default.
We can’t just “do” something, can we?
Of course, we can.
Occasionally it’s prudent to let the world decide how awesome our stuff is. And to paraphrase Andy Warhol, while they are deciding, we will do more stuff.

Are you refraining from creating because you’ve been let down in your expectations previously?
Maybe you don’t want to lose hope by not even starting.
Countless people work in dead-end jobs without having much hope or even expectation.
If you can manage to hold out in a 9-5 without hope, enjoyment, or expectation, then how about doing something you CAN ENJOY without having high-hopes or unwarranted expectations?
Again that question becomes relevant. “What would you be doing instead?”

I also got so used to not “winning” I stopped doing, or “trying” at some stage.
Forget about that nonsense that you “shouldn’t try.”
“Trying” is merely a word.
“Trying” is “doing.” One man’s “trying” is another man’s finished product.
I have a few skills, and I enjoy doing activities that haven’t morphed into lucrative ventures yet.
And that’s fine. I could’ve chosen to hang out in the shops, aimlessly wandering between aisles instead.
Both choices could’ve been fun— but I chose to invest in potential building blocks for something more tangible.

Go check up on the Lotto numbers you played last night.
Maybe you didn’t win anything, but what would you be doing right now instead of checking the numbers?
You already played the game. You might as well invest a few more minutes in it.
You already made that mustard, and it wasn’t as great as anticipated— but your neighbor liked it.
Go and make another batch.
What else are you going to do anyway— wonder what to download for tonight’s viewing?

I can’t promise you success. I can’t even promise myself any form of success by choosing “this over that.”
But I can testify that leaving behind some form of proof that I spent time doing something I liked outweighs the moments that I merely spent “going through time,” even when those products I created didn’t live up to (my) expectations.

(I have a distinct feeling I’ll be editing this post somewhere along the line. It’s one of those where I feel I either said too much or maybe not enough. It might not be perfect now, but releasing it into the wild feels more appropriate than burying it.
What else would I do if I deleted it? Wrack my brain about writing something “better?”
Maybe it might benefit someone, or not— who knows?
I only know that I enjoyed writing it.)

Until next time!
Matt LR

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