My Life Is But A List Of Unfinished Projects.

As I walked into my messy studio a Thot hit me.

My life—my beautiful, creative, chaotic life—is littered with half-finished things.

Unfinished art.

Unfinished builds.

Unfinished trails.

Unfinished blog posts.

Unfinished versions of myself.

And I know I’m not alone in this.

I’m into a lot—building Anobdy, making art, writing, thinking, wandering in nature, fixing up the camper van, taking care of the land, helping my wife with her business, working full-time, taking care of the dogs, trying to be a good human, and a hundred other things.

And I’m also trying to slow down, to enjoy the river, to just be.

To just exist.

But I still feel the pressure. The weight of all the things I could be doing.

The guilt of having so much, and leaving so much undone.

There are people who would give anything to have the time or tools or resources I have. And yet I sit staring at a half-built studio and a pile of ideas I haven’t acted on.

And there’s this fire in me—that ambition.

I know I can do more. I know I have something creatively special to share with the world.

But that ambition often feels like it’s pushing against something else inside me… the monk.

There’s a part of me that just wants to let it all go.

To give up all the projects and expectations and timelines and simply exist—to walk through the woods, to sit beside the river, to listen to the wind and the birds and the beating of my own heart.

And yet… the ideas keep coming.

Every day, I text myself “thots of anobdy.”

Every walk sparks a new build, a new insight, a new piece of art.

That’s the thing no one tells you:

Being creatively alive means you will always have more ideas than time.

And somewhere along the way, I began to believe that every idea needed to be made real. That if I had the thot, I owed it something.

But I’m learning that not every thot is a task.

Some are meant to be composted.

And the ones that grow slowly often grow stronger.

The best things I’ve created came not from rushing, but from sitting. From letting them breathe, evolve, whisper back to me. The tension between doing and being isn’t a problem—it’s part of my process. My creativity needs the monk. The monk watches, listens, helps me decide what’s worth building and what’s better left as mystery.

I’m learning how to hold both—the ambition and the stillness.

Becoming a vessel large enough to carry both the fire and the river.

And when I feel overwhelmed by all the unfinished things, I remind myself:

Maybe I’m the project.

Maybe the list isn’t unfinished because I failed—

Maybe it’s unfinished because I’m still becoming.

Reflection:

What if “unfinished” isn’t failure, but evidence of a life fully engaged?

What projects are you carrying that might not need finishing… just forgiving?