"Question: How contrive not to waste one's time?
Answer: By being fully aware of it all the while." ~ Albert Camus
I came across this quote last week while searching for quotes about time to kick start some journaling. Why time? Because I got tired of hearing myself asking, "Where has the time gone?". And I seem to be asking that question a lot lately.
There's been the obvious events that's got me thinking about the passage of time - an impending birthday, seeing friends we haven't seen in over 10 years (10 years!), underestimating a nephew's age, looking in the mirror and seeing my mother's face looking back at me. But it's been the small, daily reminders that have been niggling at me - the arrival of a new edition of a magazine when I haven't read last month's yet, tearing off another page from the calendar, hearing that someone younger than I am has passed away, or simply noticing it's later than I thought on going to bed while having accomplished only half of what I had intended.
So I've begun to pay greater attention to how I spend this valuable resource called time. And it is not easy! Some things I already know - that I am easily distracted, that I spend more time on the enjoyable pastimes, and far less on something that I dislike (think cleaning toilets!) and that I lose track of time when talking with someone I love. But I am also learning some new tricks for this old dog - that by simply paying attention, by being more aware I have more control of the distractions. That my father was right - it is easier to avoid temptations than resist them. That, perhaps, time means something totally different in your 70's than in your 30's anyway! And, perhaps, the most valuable AHA - that in any transition, one of the greatest challenges is to learn new ways to spend time.
I wonder, can anyone really be aware of time "all the while"? For now, however, I'm just trying to be more attentive.
After several years of setting goals over the holidays, using several (often laborious)approaches, I almost decided to forego the process this year. After all, I'm retired now. Why drive myself? The main goal for the year - enjoy life! Then I stumbled upon two questions raised by Patti Digh, author of life is a verb. Digh doesn't write goals, but uses questions like these to guide her during the year. The questions:
What do I want to create this year?
What am I ready to release this year?
Now, I love chewing on a good question. Love the sense of clarity that can emerge, the new possiblity that presents itself, the visceral satisfaction of discovering a powerful answer when most needed. So, I've been playing with these questions for a few weeks now, just considering, listing ideas as possibilities. Adding to the lists. Some of my ideas:
What do I want to create?
- an art studio
- an organized garage
- mini-scrapbooks of cherished memories
- new memories, especially
- a cruise to Alaska to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary
- greater self-discipline - read "healthier habits"
- etc., etc.
What am I ready to release?
- clothes I don't wear
- boxes we've moved for the past 10 years without opening
- my tendency to worry
- ten lbs. - the same ten lbs. I've said I'd lose for the past 10 years!!
- habits that don't serve me well
- etc., etc.
In the process of creating these lists, three things have happened. First, I've shifted from thinking about what I should do this year to what I genuinely want to do... a seismic shift in itself. Second, I've already acted on a few ideas - the cruise is booked, the "studio" is underway, we've been working in the garage and...I've tossed out boxes of old journals! All within 3 weeks! And third, because these questions have been so helpful, I'm playing with a few of my own:
- What do I want to learn this year?
- What do I want to attempt?
- What do I want to finish?
- What do I want to celebrate?
Finally, in the process of creating these lists, I have also created some goals for 2013...after all these years, some habits do persist. But this year, using these questions to guide my thinking, the process has been fascinating, easy and even enjoyable. Thank you, Patti!
It has been an interesting day - not what I had expected. Not a typical New Year's Day. In fact, I thought we'd be celebrating somewhere else, even had made the plans to do so. But John has picked up a virus and I'm still hobbling a bit from the fall I took just before Thanksgiving. We did manage to watch the Rose Bowl Parade together and were, as usual, awed by the color and the creativity, moved by a touching reunion of a young military family, impressed by the precision of the marching bands. Then he disappeared into football games and I retreated to catch an old favorite, "Sleepless in Seattle." A quiet day. A tranquil day, virus included, hobbling included.
After this past year, a trying year of endless campaigning, dysfunctional bipartisanship, natural disaster upon natural disaster, murder and mayhem, the loss of a family member - a quiet day, a day to just relax, to smile, and be reminded that people can come together safely and joyfully is a good day.
Our holidays have, in fact, been a series of quiet days. Reflective days. Still affected by the tragedy in Newtown and our personal loss, and frustrated by the fiasco in Washington, our relationship, our home, and our community have become increasingly the focus of our attention. Are we unusual, I wonder. Is this the silver lining in the pervasive thunder clouds of 2012? That we can become more conscious of what's important to us. That we can focus on nurturing and enjoying it. That we can choose to focus our efforts on what we can impact. That we can reject the fear and anger, the blame and insanity. That we can hold the possibility that 2013 will be a better year, a healthier and happier year.
Maybe it's because I know Newtown, having spent several lovely days among this lovely community. Maybe it's because the first school I administered was a primary school, K - 3. Maybe it's because I am already grieving a personal loss, but I have been glued to CNN to watch the coverage of this latest tragedy. Feeling oddly reminiscent, too reminiscent, of the assassinations of the 60's, 9-ll, Oklahoma City, Columbine. Tragedies heaped upon the innocent. Alternately raging, sobbing, applauding the courage of reporters who have challenged some of the inanity they were hearing, grateful for the respect they are showing the community, in awe of the dignity and compassion expressed by family members of victims, and despairing that this has happened yet again.
Above all, wondering whether this time we will have the courage and the resolve to address the underlying, systemic problems that contribute to this madness. Granted, no one is asking me for my ideas. Granted, I have my own biases. But I have some questions I wish would be raised by someone of influence and authority. I have some questions that could lead to different kinds of discussion than whether or not we should be arming our teachers!
- What kind of society do we want to live in? A violent, armed, fearful society?
- What can we learn from other countries who are not as violent as we are? Like Japan.
- What have we already learned from previous tragedies that could help us identify potential dangers?
- How much more information do we need anyway?
- How do we support our "leaders" (perhaps demand?!) to get beyond their own interests to work together, to get beyond their bi-partisanship? How do we become more responsible followers who are willing to sacrifice some of our own interests?
- What can Newtown teach us all about becoming caring, supportive, responsible communities?
- When do the needs of the whole trump the needs of the individual?
- What can we do as individuals to impact the quality of our society as a whole? Simply labeling us as a violent society or describing what we are seeing as "reality" that must be accepted serves only to make us more fearful, more frustrated, more isolated.
- How can we encourage, develop the critical thinking skills and the communications skills we so desperately need in order to address these larger issues together rather than against one another?
- How can we use social networking venues to promote responsible, thoughtful action...not knee-jerk, reactionary, simplistic actions that produce more (sometimes greater) problems!?!?
- How can we defend controlling cars more than we do guns?!
- Where are the systems thinkers that could help move a national discourse to consider the scope of the disease - right now it seems that we are arguing over the size of the bandage to put over the tumor!
- When do we take a stand...and mean it?
My brother-in-law died yesterday. Because we have lived a continent apart, we were in each other's company for perhaps only 3 weeks out of the 30 years I have known him. But my sense of loss this morning is great.
You see, Gary was one of the good guys, a genuine nice guy. He had a gentle Jimmy Stewart disposition. Worked hard all his life. Took pleasure in simple things. Always played the hand he was dealt with grace and equanimity.
He adored his wife of 43 years, his children and grandchildren. It was this love that fueled his arduous fight with lung cancer this past year, enduring months of treatment with his usual upbeat, glass half-full optimism. Never complained.
He was loyal and honest, a steadfast man, accepting of everybody, tolerant of foibles that would have irritated a saint. Even when he didn't like someone, he expressed his opinions without rancor or disdain, simply as his opinion. Never nasty, never demeaning.
This world could use more good guys. I will miss this very decent man.
I had it all planned - a special holiday season. I made lists of possible day trips, restaurants to try, movie matinees, stocking stuffers. I delighted over invitations to celebrate, each an acknowledgment that this has truly become our home, smiling each time I added another date to our calendar. Even included baking cookies, something I haven't done for years. Mom's chocolate chips and snowballs for sure. My intention - to do something everyday that would make Christmas 2012 the most memorable yet.
It was to be launched with brunch on Thanksgiving Day with old friends, followed by an afternoon spent decorating our 6+ft. Christmas tree. Now, that tree is a thing of beauty, a testimony to whatever creative talents I have. Gold and copper ornaments amassed over the years (even a couple from my childhood ), plumes of gold tinsel, tiny birds with feather tails peeking out from unexpected niches, glass icicles that shimmer when the lights are lit, and as a topper, an angel that has graced every tree of our marriage.
My planning, my lists, my anticipation grew all month. Like a kid with an Advent Calendar. With each new Hallmark holiday movie I became more eager to begin, even considered putting up the tree before Thanksgiving, but couldn't convince John, who does well to tolerate my exuberance, to lug it out from the garage and struggle with the lights any sooner than he had to.
Then, on the Monday before Thanksgiving, I fell. Wrestled with the vacuum hose and lost. Landed on my right knee - on the unforgiving tile floor - barely missing the coffee table or the metal corner of a side table. After my initial shock and embarrassment - how could I be such a klutz - and reassuring my terrified husband that I hadn't heard a pop, no bones seemed to be broken, I mentally went through my lists, crossing off the tree, eliminating the parties and the day trips, indulging in one inglorious, adolescent, self-pity party.
In the long days that followed, it became evident that I had injured my knee. To what extent we weren't sure, but I knew that the shooting pains meant something was wrong. Being a holiday week, typical health care was difficult to come by. I was able to get advice as to avoiding any further damage, but couldn't see an orthopedist until this week. So I concentrated on staying off my feet and managing my morale so I wouldn't go down the rabbit hole of dark imaginings and rampant anxiety. Hobbled around on a cane, and popped Alleves. Kept apologizing to John for being a burden - my declaration, not his. Kept reminding myself that we have managed much bigger challenges than this. That it could have been so much worse. That other people do, in fact, have it much worse.
And wondered why I had to work so hard to manage my thinking.
Yesterday, I saw the orthopedist. The good news - no break, no tear. Only significant stress and inflammation. No need for crutches or the wheel chair I had conjured up. Just a few more weeks of taking it easy, more Alleve and hobbling a bit. And rethinking my lists. Maybe not all the events, but some - which ones? Maybe not the tree, but surely wreathes, and reindeer and candles. Maybe not the day trips, but restaurants and movies. This may not be the special holiday I had envisioned, but it will be memorable. And there will be chocolate chip cookies.
My mother called it "contemplating one's navel" - and she had little patience for it - thinking too much, especially about things that can't be controlled or changed. Needless to say, she didn't keep a journal, couldn't understand why anyone would go to a therapist.
She would use that phrase whenever she thought I was worrying about something or spending an inordinate amount of time and effort to dissect a situation or struggling to make sense out of nonsense. I would bristle and defend myself. I used to wonder how she knew that I was, in fact, overthinking, musing, worrying, deep within a maze of my own construction, bumping up against imaginary walls.
I've come to realize that it must be pretty obvious to anyone who is around me for any length of time. I withdraw, disengage - journal much more than usual, make and remake list upon list, draw mindmaps - and double back again. Get caught up in circular conversations in my head. Just like a lab rat in a maze. Not something I'm particularly proud of.
The good news, I manage to get through a maze much faster these days. Only a month this go round.
The bad news, the sad news, it took Hurricane Sandy to snap me out of it. Seeing the devastation, entire neighborhoods destroyed, children lost, lives disrupted perhaps forever. The water, the mud, the fires. Anguish, grief, unbelievable loss. Every day another wrenching story. A sobering reminder to get a grip! Quick! "There but for the grace....."
Outwardly, nothing much has changed here in St. George. Yes, it's cooler. But my vote still won't count. I know I will worry whenever John so much as coughs. I can't seem to lose these ten pounds. TV continues to annoy me. Strangers will persist in calling me dear and honey. And whenever I enter a room and can't remember why, I still won't like it.
But internally, the walls of this maze have collapsed. The moment even a brick appears, I remind myself of the advice I so easily give someone else - to consider the alternative. Now, I'm not so naive as to expect I'll never construct another maze and wander around a bit, but I may just have a couple posters made - CONSIDER THE ALTERNATIVE - so that it doesn't take another disaster to snap me out of it!
