Have you ever felt the ‘Tug of Mañana?’
Yesterday I had a real-world example of that familiar pull.
I had planned to ride Fortuna—I haven’t ridden her for a few weeks due to a variety of things that just kept coming up. But the day before, I had looked her in the eye and promised, “Tomorrow we will go out for a ride.”
There is a joke here that in Spanish, the word mañana doesn’t actually mean tomorrow—it just means not today. That was starting to look true yesterday. By the time I finally got a chance to halter Fortuna, it was close to 5:00 PM. In ranch life, that means chores and dinner time.
I could feel myself hesitating. Am I really going to bother saddling her now, when I know there isn’t really much time to ride? Maybe I should just wait for mañana. But right in the midst of that question, there was a subtle nudge.
“Let’s go today. Let’s go now. It doesn’t have to be a long ride—something is better than nothing.”
Where had that thought come from? Was it mine? Or was it Fortuna’s? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Regardless, I decided to follow it.
The Great Small Ride
Pacas, the dog, seeing the “getting ready” movement, started running in circles, excited to hit the trails. Off we went—Fortuna, Pacas, and me—heading out just as the other horses were coming back.
We didn’t have a plan. It was late. We didn’t have much time. But that voice stayed with me: “Something is better than nothing. A short ride is better than no ride.”
And the thing is? It was. We had a great time meandering through the estuary trails and along the river. No agenda, no destination—just time in the saddle. Nothing big, nothing flashy, nothing “adventurous.” Just time together, communicating, connecting, and communing.
The Perfectionist’s Trick
It was a great ride, but it was an even better reminder.
Sometimes I think we get caught up in the “Big Thing” myth. We think we need to do the big thing or nothing at all. Unless I can run five miles, I shouldn’t run. Unless I can spend an hour in deep meditation, I shouldn’t bother sitting still.
I think that is a trick. It is a trick to keep us stuck. It robs us of our agency, making us think that unless we can do it perfectly or completely, we shouldn’t even start. And because we never have the time or the energy for the “Big Thing,” we keep saying mañana.
Saying mañana day after day slowly begins to erode our sense of being an actor in our own lives, and makes us feel like a spectator instead. This “all or nothing” attitude actually ensures we will never take the next step.
Hearing the Voice, But Not Listening
I felt that familiar tug yesterday with Fortuna: Why bother? It’s too late. You’re too tired.
But this time, I heard it, but I didn’t listen. I recognized that voice—the one that tries to keep me “safe” by keeping me stagnant. Instead, I chose to listen to the nudge that said there is value in small steps in the direction you want to travel.
I think we get stuck not because we want to be, but because we allow excuses that seem valid, but are actually mirages, to keep us from moving forward. The solution is to develop practices that help us lean into today.
Bite-Sized Morsels: The Return
This is a big part of why I have put together this rhythm of practices that I am calling The Return. They are small. Bite-sized. We are not going to run a marathon on day one. They are designed to be like ice cream—they fill in along the cracks even when life is already “full.” They aren’t meant to make you more full, but to bring delight in the midst of the fullness.
We begin this Sunday, April 5th, Easter. It seems like a good time for new beginnings.
There is no “live” time you have to attend. Each Sunday, a short 15-minute audio recording will be available for you to listen to during your commute, while making dinner, or while dropping off the kids. Then, each day during the week, I will give you another bite-sized morsel to ponder.
There is no pressure. Nothing to achieve. Nothing to perform. Just small practices that, done a little bit at a time, I believe will add up to a very different kind of life.
