You Don’t Have to Replace the Stone

Last week, I asked you to find a stone.

Not because we needed another object on our desks or tucked into our pockets.

The stone was meant to represent something we carry.

An expectation.
A story.
A standard.
A version of ourselves we’ve been trying to live up to.

Something with weight.

And maybe, over the past week, you identified yours.

Maybe you even decided you were ready to put it down.

Good.

Now comes the part I didn't warn you about.

Don't immediately go looking for another stone.

We Are Very Good at Replacing Them

This is something I know about myself.

I can let go of one expectation and, without even realizing it, create another.

Stop needing everyone to like me — and start becoming very proud of how little I care what anyone thinks.

Stop measuring myself by productivity — and start measuring myself by how well I protect my peace.

Stop trying to be the perfect leader — and start trying to be the perfectly self-aware leader.

Stop performing achievement — and start performing authenticity.

Same stone.

Different outfit.

We humans are remarkably creative that way.

Even our growth can become another performance.

Even healing can become another standard we're supposed to meet.

Even authenticity can become something we try to get right.

And suddenly the thing that was supposed to free us has become another thing we're carrying.

What If There Is Nothing to Prove?

That's the question I've been sitting with.

Not:

What should I carry instead?

But:

What if I don't need to replace it at all?

There's discomfort in that.

Because carrying something gives us a sense of orientation.

I am the successful one.

The dependable one.

The strong one.

The agreeable one.

The accomplished one.

The resilient one.

The feisty one.

Even identities we love can become heavy when we start believing we have to perform them.

And putting them down — even temporarily — can leave our hands feeling strangely empty.

We don't always know who we are without the weight.

Empty Hands Aren't Failure

Maybe that's part of the work.

Learning to tolerate the space that appears when we stop proving.

Not immediately filling it.

Not creating a new metric.

Not finding a more enlightened expectation to replace the old one.

Just noticing.

What do I actually want?

What matters to me now?

What feels true when nobody is watching?

What am I carrying because I choose it — and what am I carrying because somewhere along the way I decided I had to?

Those are very different things.

And I'm becoming increasingly interested in the difference.

Choose What Comes With You

Putting down the stone doesn't mean abandoning ambition, responsibility, growth or the things that matter to us.

It means becoming more discerning about what deserves our energy.

Some things are worth carrying.

Love.

Compassion.

Curiosity.

Purpose.

Responsibility for the impact we have on other people.

The people and commitments we've consciously chosen.

But shame?

Someone else's definition of success?

The requirement to constantly prove our value?

The version of ourselves we've outgrown but are afraid to disappoint?

Those stones can get very heavy.

And here's the feisty part:

You don't receive extra points for carrying them longer.

There is no prize for making life harder than it needs to be.

There is no medal for dragging an outdated version of yourself into your future.

And your worth does not increase according to the weight you can withstand.

So if you put something down this week, resist the temptation to fill your hands immediately.

Leave them empty for a minute.

See what happens.

You might discover that freedom feels unfamiliar before it feels free.

And maybe that's okay.

Putting down the stone is one thing.
Not replacing it is freedom.

Forward, with purpose,

Amber

Download Chapter Eleven of The Feisty Human and continue the conversation.

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