The Difficult we do immediately; the Impossible takes just a little longer

“Why do we do it? Why do we take on stuff that is so hard, seemingly impossible, and even a little dangerous?”

We are living in hard times. Some might even say impossible times. 

Every great deed I have ever accomplished seemed impossible. At first, it seemed mostly impossible, though still "doable.”... But eventually, the immensity of the impossibleness of the task, initially submerged, emerges, like some great white shark accompanied by ominous string music: "Da Dun... Da Dun...."

I have come to think of tackling the impossible as a matter of stages of the impossible. I must have been influenced by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's famous book, On Death and Dying, in which she lays out the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. For anyone who has had to grieve the loss of anything or anyone, these stages are all too familiar. They have served as a useful, comforting roadmap for all of us who have had to witness or navigate this sad path.

Facing the impossible seems like an unlikely comparative path. For one, you may not have lost anything. In fact, overcoming the impossible could be exactly the opposite because the process may equate to addition (gain), rather than subtraction (loss). Yet, just like in the five stages of grief, it can be helpful to view the progression of tackling something which seems to be impossible in stages. Each stage offers a specific worldview, and while it may seem like a starkly real explanation of your situation at the time, it’s more likely to be a commentary on your personal headspace than a true portrait of your progress or the chances for your success. 

So, in an unabashed imitation of Kübler-Ross's five stages, and with hope that her spirit will accept this imitation as the highest form of flattery, I too am designating exactly five stages of conquering the impossible. It all starts with your realization of the impossibility of doing something that seems, well, impossible. Here are my five stages, meant to represent a path you will often travel whenever you first scream (aloud or in silence): "That's impossible!"

Before I begin let me also admit that on rare occasions, tackling really hard stuff is not so arduous. It is possible to hit the groove, ride the wave, or whatever other metaphor you wish to envision for "that was easier than I expected." But you cannot expect this experience—rather, count yourself lucky if you ever encounter it. For the most part, the process of tackling the impossible is a grind. Let’s break down that process into stages:

Stage 1: "This looks really HARD"

Stage 2: "What the hell have I gotten into?'

Stage 3: “Futility”

Stage 4: "Help me Lord!"

Stage 5: “What just happened and are all my body parts still attached?”

***

“The hardest part of beginning is beginning.”

Stage 1: “This looks really HARD”

Never avoid something simply because it appears too hard . Challenges are a good thing. However, there are challenges, and there are CHALLENGES. 

The first hint that your challenge may be a candidate for the official designation of "impossible" is when after all the initial facts are in, it appears to be really, really hard to accomplish. If you are ambitious, you might even say to yourself, "It can't possibly be this hard, so maybe I just don't completely understand it?" This is your first step down the rabbit hole. Your second step, the one which will send you tumbling into that impossibly deep, dark dimension, will be when you deem your task as "incredibly challenging" but it will be fun to try anyhow.  Go ahead and smile your good-natured smile, even as big as a Cheshire cat's grin, for this will be the last time.

Stage 2: "What the hell have I gotten into?”

You were right, back in Stage 1—you did not have all of the facts, and your understanding was indeed limited.  Stage 2 starts when you have gathered all of the facts. Only then do you realize that what you are doing is, in fact, impossible. It cannot be done. You're not qualified. No one is there to help you. You don't have nearly enough resources. Maybe "they'' are even conspiring to stop you (always a great indicator that you are officially in Stage 2). In short, you have bitten off way more than you can chew. You are out over your skis. You have exhausted every single cliche you can think of to explain to anyone who will listen that you have no explanation for what you have gotten into and don't have a clue how to get out of the mess you are in. 

Stage 3: Futility

Yet, you persist.  At first, it's about bull-shitting yourself. Only accomplished self-bullshitters take on impossible tasks, and only the true "arteests" of self-BS make it past Stage 3. This is about telling yourself it's not that bad, even when it is. It's about reminding yourself that tomorrow is a new day, when every day feels like the last. It involves not listening to your friends and family when they offer their free advice along the lines of, "Are you sure you know what you are doing?" Of course, you know the answer to that—you absolutely don't know what you are doing or how this will all turn out. There are days, weeks, and longer when it all feels so futile. But you keep going, not only because you don't know what else to do, but also because there is this little bird singing in your ear whose song says, “keep going.”

Have you ever taken a long hike thinking that you can easily make it to the destination, only to realize halfway there, that you are not going to make it all the way? You are too far out to turn back, and not far enough along to feel confident of successful completion of the journey? Welcome to Stage 3.

At this point you may feel adrift. You are not. Powerful forces have taken hold. Some by your hand, others completely out of it. Your plan, adapted and improvised, is morphing into a solution. Your narrative is starting to be adopted. There is perceptible progress if you have eyes for it. If you have made it this far, you are on to something.  Sometimes you are the last to know, so look for the signs that others can tell that this is true. This might work. 

Stage 4: “Help me Lord!"

Kübler-Ross's third stage is "bargaining." In my fourth stage, I'll call her third stage bet and raise it by adding an appeal to the Almighty. My stage 4 is not just about bargaining with whoever will listen, but also reaching the point of pleading for redemption to any Deity who might be listening. 

My first career was in the oil business in Houston, during a time in the 1980s when the industry experienced a complete and utter meltdown, with over 75% of all jobs in the oil-patch evaporating in what seemed like overnight. Everybody had been riding high, and then just like that, they were reduced to pleading against impossible odds. During that period, there was a popular, only half-joking prayer heard around town, "Dear Lord, please bring us another oil boom. We promise not to piss it away again, like last time".

Stage 4 is about ending your self-bullshitting stage and coming to the realization that your impossible quest may not end well, you have run out of good ideas, and that it will all be left to forces and momentums not readily apparent to you at the time. You would think this moment would be the most deflating of all of the Stages. However, it can be a first moment of true comfort, a moment of rescue from the ego part of you which demands to drive the results, to that deeper part of you which accepts the outcome—win or lose. This is the time when you realize that when it comes to dealing with impossibility management, you are not the one in control. This is the central wisdom I offer you: to conquer anything impossible, you need a little help. Call it luck, divine intervention, being in the right place at the right time—perhaps all of the above and more. It sometimes happens. Not always. But enough to make the impossible, possible.

The deal with the deity is that you agree to change your narrative. About what you are up to and about yourself as part of their plan.  At the very time you are begging to be relieved, the little bird will sing again. And the song will say, “almost there.”

Stage 5: “What just happened?”

Stage 5 can start with a slow but steady realization that you just might make it through this thing. It moves on to the notion that it might even end in success. Then finally, you can see you have accomplished what you have set out to do. You have conquered the impossible. 

Since impossible victory is part of the sports lexicon, here are two sports metaphors for the competing feelings in stage 5. The first is the obvious—the end-zone dance. Reaching a destination is always a happy moment, but ever more sweet when you were not at all sure you would ever make it. You think back to the moment in your hike when you could not turn back and did not believe you could move forward. But you kept going. You are here. You have arrived. Do your happy dance. The inventor of the modern end zone dance was a fleet-footed wide receiver for the Houston Oilers named Billy "White Shoes" Johnson. The first time he scored a touchdown and performed his wildly popular end zone dance, his coach Bum Phillips chastised him, saying, "Billy, when a player gets to the end zone, he should act like he's been there before." I disagree with Bum and always loved it when Billy lit it up after each touchdown. Apparently, most other players and fans since then have agreed, because 40 years later, almost no one scores a TD without doing a dance. So I say to you, when you overcome the impossible, do your dance!

But another emotion may emerge and it is just as real and just as common. It is that of exhaustion. My second sports metaphor is from the last scene from the movie “Rocky 2,” where a seriously out-matched Rocky Balboa goes 15 brutal rounds with the sleek, confident, heavyweight champion of the world, Apollo Creed. The last round is Rocky's “Help me, Lord” Stage 4, when apparently beaten to a pulp, he finds his last hidden reservoir of energy and beats the ever-loving crap out of Apollo to seemingly win the fight. However, they give the fight to Apollo anyway. Even in victory, Apollo is dragged away from his victory, exhausted, yelling "There ain't going be no rematch." Even though Rocky, also severely beaten, does not look like anyone who would WANT a rematch. Rocky did not win the fight, but he conquered the impossible because he took it to the champion, and survived with pride and spirit intact, even if his body was not quite. But there would be no boxing equivalent of an end-zone dance. Only exhaustion and the blessing of survival. 

One other prominent emotion of beating the impossible is that of astonishment. This may take the form of amusement, denial, or even the guilt often associated with survivors of impossible tragedies who wonder, "why me, and not the ones who did not survive?"  While we are accustomed to seeing chest-thumpers who enjoy a bit of "flexing" after their victories, it’s actually more common that very few Stage-fivers can immediately give you a coherent road map for their success. Some will try to make stuff up, but as often as not, it will be years before they figure out how and why it went down as a win. This can be yet another humbling feature of conquering the impossible. 

Why do we do it? Why do we take on stuff that is so hard, seemingly impossible, and even a little dangerous?  Do you know about those guys in the south who do a type of fishing called "noodling"? It involves catching giant catfish by reaching their arm down into dark slimy river water, feeling around for fish hiding in holes under the banks of the river, and pulling the nasty ole fish out of the water with their bare hands. Why would anybody fish like this? Because it’s not just difficult, but also a little bit impossible.  

My stepfather, Omer Clark, made me put the following phrase on our first company's stationery: 

"The difficult we do immediately. The impossible takes just a little longer." 

I thought it was silly at the time, albeit catchy in an old-timey way, but I wonder if it instilled something in my heart. Recognizing challenge, or even that you have no idea how you will do it, is a natural state for those who are willing to try.  We should endeavor to nurture a culture which accepts some challenge and risk, one willing to try to overcome that which initially looks impossible.

These times do indeed feel impossible. Further, we are dealing with so much loss in our own lives and as a nation. Because of COVID-19 and subsequent quarantines, most of us have lost our freedom to move about as freely. Some have lost a job and/or much of our income and business. Sadly, many have lost their civil liberties and some, even their lives at the hands of institutionalized oppression. Sometimes it feels like we have lost our leadership, and as a country, our way. 

For all of these things, we must grieve, perhaps traveling the path of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's five stages. Nevertheless, we must also start down the path of conquering the impossible, both personally and as a community. This starts by recognizing the challenges. It's okay to think they may be really, really hard. 

Then we begin. The hardest part of beginning is beginning. Shall we?