A Pre-Thanksgiving Reflection
It’s been over a month since I returned from my camping road trip to the Northwest United States and the Canadian Rockies. Since getting home I have been trying to get back into some sort of routine of working on various projects that I had put aside while I was away. This seems especially important with winter approaching. I admit that I have been struggling with this and find myself easily distracted and unable to focus for long periods of time on any one thing. Instead I flit from one task or project or fun diversion to another depending on my whims in any particular moment. My “systems” for keeping track of my aspirations and successes week to week have been less than helpful. Rather than motivating me, my various lists and weekly priorities and goals serve only to remind me of all I did not get done. I dutifully move them onto the next week’s list, only to find them - yet again - unchecked at the end of the week.
Is it so bad that I can’t seem to find my footing? I can’t decide. I have never been comfortable just drifting along aimlessly. Maybe now is the time to embrace the ambiguity of my life and let go of my need to control every moment. But my mind is at sea, and I feel like I am treading water, surrounded by all the possibilities for interesting and fun ways to spend my precious time juxtaposed with my desire to live a responsible and productive life. It isn’t that I have nothing to do. I have so much I want (or need) to do that I immobilize myself with indecision. For me that power of choice is both the curse and the gift of retirement.
Of course you don’t need to be retired to have obstacles standing in the way of where you want to be in life. There are lots of reasons for treading water and many of us fall victim to the inertia of indecision. While taking an occasional pause in life can be transforming and helpful, sometimes that inertia becomes unhealthy and keeps us from moving ourselves forward at all. Inertia can turn into avoidance or denial. We distract ourselves to cover up what we are truly feeling, and close a door to hide the things we need to be taking care of now. There is a big difference between taking a pause to catch our breath and figure out next steps, and treading water waiting for a lifeboat that never arrives.
The fact that I have choices and lead a fairly privileged life simply adds to my angst when I don’t feel I am using my opportunities and gifts wisely. I drift from one thought to the next, dabbling for a few moments here and there on unfinished projects, never spending enough time to feel I have produced anything of substance. This is followed at the end of the day by mindlessly binge watching my latest TV obsession. I go to bed wondering where the day went and promising myself I’ll do better tomorrow.
My yard is ready for the cold and darkness of winter (I often don’t bag my leaves) but I’m not so sure I am.
No, this isn’t a daily occurrance, but it happens often enough that I berate myself for it. Many of us were taught from an early age that idleness and lack of purpose are sins to be avoided. I grew up with the Protestant work ethic ingrained in my soul. That philosophy isn’t necessarily a bad way to think about our life on this earth, but its reliance on individual discipline, efficiency and economic productivity as a gateway to heaven and eternal bliss seems rather limited. For me, life is so much more than that. Or should be. Where does creativity, art, joy, acceptance and empathy toward others, kindness, charity, and fostering community and family fit in to our life philosophy, daily routines, and goals?
As we get closer to the rush of the holidays, which are joyful for some, sad for others, and unavoidable for most of us, let’s not forget to grant ourselves some grace while we are busily trying to live up to what may be unrealistic expectations. Give yourself permission to slow down and embrace the ambiguity of your life, particularly when those pesky emotional triggers pop up unannounced. Don’t be so hard on yourself when you do something (or don’t do something) that reminds you that you are imperfect. Do the best you can. For lifelong learners (which, like it or not, all of us are), every day can be a new beginning. We aren’t who we were in the past, we are who we aspire and strive to be.
Hold your loved ones close and don’t shy away from reconnecting with people in your orbit who are important to you and who nurture your soul and encourage you to be your best self. Sometimes that’s more important than whether you completed an item on your never-ending to-do list.
Happy Thanksgiving.
I aspire to be as chill as my cat Casper, who doesn’t let the threats of the world keep him from enjoying life to the fullest.
