‘Keep Your Eyes on Your Own Paper’ is the Best Advice I Can Give You
A few years ago I had a dream that refocused my life and I began to walk in my purpose without fear and doubt.
Whenever I feel insecure about life choices I have made and worry what others think about what I am doing with my life, I repeat the mantra that came to me in a dream: “Keep your eyes on your own paper.”
This grade school-ingrained mantra, along with the wisdom of my mother has served me well when navigating the peaks and valleys of indecision, the fear of missing out or not fitting in, and the anxiety that comes with life changes that require risk.
“Why do you care what everyone else is doing?” my mom always challenged me. “Do what you like — you don’t need to follow the crowd.”
Variations on this theme flowed from my mother’s lips throughout my life, when in response to teenage angst trying to keep up with the ever-changing fashions or when I was lamenting about how the garage-sale items in my first home didn’t match like the designer showcases in the furniture stores.
“Everything doesn’t have to match,” she would assure me. “That’s boring anyway!”
True to her words, my mom’s decorating style could have been aptly labeled eclectic — ranging from spider plants spilling out of 70's-era macrame hangers to the ever-present green-faced-lady painting that she hung in the living room because she “liked it.”
Guarding against the expectations of others, comparison, and FOMO
My mom’s words of wisdom guided me through life as I tried to be my own person (even as I sometimes watched her fold herself into the expectations of others). Remembering her adages, I made conscious efforts to separate myself from fads and comfort the anxious thoughts that crept into my heart in the middle of the night. The worries about not fitting in with any particular group in high school or the temptation to keep up with the Joneses while I set aside my career to stay at home with my young children.
I held fast to the echoes of her words: “You don’t have to do what everyone else is doing or what others expect you to do” as I pioneered out from traditional classroom teaching into the world of online education (two decades before the Pandemic of 2020 would make online education a household phrase).
Why did I always have to take the path less traveled? I imagined my family, friends, and former co-workers shaking their heads at me: Poor Mary, she’s lost her way — what is she doing with her life?
But, somewhere along the way, my mother's words got lost in the midst of building a career and the commotion of the noisy world. I dove headlong into the consumer-driven culture of modern society and More became a generic goal: a bigger house, better cars, vacations — perhaps a timeshare, a new wedding ring to replace the plain gold band that had symbolized our humble beginnings of marriage and family life. The salary, the bonuses, the titles — not that advancing in one’s career is wrong — it just wasn't the path to peace and fulfillment for me.
At the pinnacle of where I thought I wanted to be in life — a good salary, a large home, and money to take vacations to escape the midwest winters— I found myself restless, discontent, unhappy, and empty inside. So many things needed to change but I only had an inkling of where to begin.
Trust that still small voice that says, ‘this just might work — I’ll try it’. — Diane Mariechild
I sold my too-big home and roughly one-third of my belongings and downsized to an understated yet homey farmhouse in central Texas. From there the dominoes fell until things I didn’t know I needed to be loosed from fell away: the job and with it the unmistakable truth that I had let my productivity and the approval of others define me. I stopped painting my toenails — a silly and small gesture but symbolic for me. As silver hairs began to shine through artificial blonde highlights I let them take root and take over — feeling strangely younger by letting go of one more expectation and the burden of keeping up appearances.
It still mattered a lot to me what others thought of me and as I began to put my writing out into the world I held my breath waiting for the approval of others. It never came. Disappointment and discouragement flooded my soul. What did I think I was doing trying to forge a path that was not clear? Why not suck up my pride and trod back down the road that was well-marked, the trail that others had worn deep grooves into?
Why did I always have to take the path less traveled? I imagined my family, friends, and former co-workers shaking their heads at me: Poor Mary, she’s lost her way — what is she doing with her life?
Don’t follow where the path may lead…go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. — Ralph Waldo Emerson
But the words of my childhood friend, “Remember Lot’s wife — don’t look back!” kept mixing together with my mother’s mantras — to create enough torque to propel me forward even when my days felt small, my presence in the world seemed invisible, and my efforts at creating a new life looked feeble.
The instructions came in a dream
One night I had a dream, and upon awakening, knew it was one of “those” dreams — the kind that has meaning, a message. Sent from above and from beyond to guide me. The dream, as I now refer to it is called, “Keep Your Eyes on Your Own Paper.”
I entered a long, narrow classroom with rows of school desks lined up the length of the room. On either side of the classroom groups of people milled about — talking, networking, some with drinks in their hands as they laughed and socialized. I knew I was there to take a test.
“Walk down the middle aisle to the front of the room, take your seat, and keep your eyes on your own paper,” God instructed me.
Instinctively, I put my head and eyes down, averted away from the socializing happening all around me. At the same time, I also realized that I knew many of the people in the room — friends, family members, and former colleagues too. Nevertheless, I did not look at any of them as I made my way to my seat. Neither did anyone in the room take notice of me. I have no recollection of what the “test” was — because I suspect the paper I looked at was not the real test. God’s instructions to keep my eyes on my own paper were clear and I sensed that this was the most important test of my life.
In the days that followed this dream, I interpreted it to mean that I shouldn’t compare myself, my life, or my work to others. Comparison is the thief of joy, as Teddy Roosevelt is quoted and God had been willing me to accept joy from his hand in that season of my life. However, in the years since I had that dream, I have seen layers of meaning unfold as the message of keeping my eyes on my own paper has become the bedrock of my life.
Now, when I begin to worry what others think about my restless spirit or unwillingness to return to full-time employment, or if the temptation to look around and compare or compete chases me down, I place my hands on either side of my face like the blinders on the racehorses my father used to worship and I repeat: “Mary, keep your eyes on your own paper.”
Keep your eyes on your own paper
We each have a life to live that feels right, regardless of what “everyone else is doing”. We each have to identify our core values and what matters most to us, and create a lifestyle that supports who we are and reflects our values. There is a fast-moving river that swallows up the bulk of society and one can easily be swept into it if not intentional about paddling the other way.
My mom’s truth still stands: it really doesn’t matter what everyone else is doing, what others tell you is important or necessary, or how much time and energy you’ve invested in something that isn’t right for you. You can always turn around, walk away, or shed that ill-fitting cloak that doesn’t fit.
“Don’t cling to a mistake just because you spent a lot of time making it.” — Aubrey De Graf
It takes self-discipline to keep your eyes on your own paper but first you need to find your paper. Use your energy to forge a new path instead of worrying about keeping pace with your peers. Find the courage to walk down a trail that few — or maybe none — have wandered and choose to believe that the rewards are worth the risks: a sense of satisfaction knowing you are living your truth, a peace that only comes from letting go of the false agenda or compulsion to follow a formula, and the freedom to be uniquely you.