As I contemplate this new year, I want to make sure that my heart and I are in the driver's seat. I am not sure exactly how it happened, but in recent years the pace of my life has been accelerating such that I feel like I am exhaustingly busy...all the time...and yet at the same time, I have very little time for what is important to me.
Readers will recognize the "no-time-for-exercise" and "no-time-for-writing" laments. Those are priorities in my life. How did they get pushed to the margins?
Yesterday I read part of an article by a women who entered 2015 with a pledge to exercise every day. She too was very busy, so she knew that it would be important to bite off manageable exercise chunks. Her goal for that year was "15 for '15." She would commit to exercising for 15 minutes every day. It had to be hard exercise: she had to sweat and get her heart rate up. She knew that no matter how busy she was, she could get in 15 minutes each day. When she wrote the article toward the end of '16 she had not only accomplished her goal for 2015, but was on track to do so again for the year just ended.*
I was inspired. Even on the busiest of days, I can do 15 minutes of exercise.
As soon as I had that realization, I had another reckoning. I could write 15 minutes every day. Now that is certainly something I know in my heart is core to who I am. Decades before most people begin to show visible signs of arthritis in their hands, two of my fingers bulge and one is bent. These are the exaggerated manifestations of signs of the writer in me that I've carried since I was 10. How could I not give writing 15 minutes a day?
These seem "no-brainers." Yet there have often been days in the last decade or two when I have hardly had time to go to the bathroom or take on nourishment. At the same time, I did manage to attend a lot of useless meetings. I met with people I didn't care to spend time with, out of a sense of obligation. Just that quickly, my 15 minutes of writing and exercise evaporated.
Sometime ago, and I'm not sure when it was, I discovered that if I were to spend time with people I cared about I needed to schedule the time. FOMO--fear of missing out--had grabbed hold of my calendar. I relish the time that Amy Frost and I spend twice month, sharing our intentions for the spiritual journey. When I had the opportunity to spend more than a day with my college roommate in October, I realized how much I miss her and how I value her presence in my life. I am so excited that we've committed to walking and talking together, something we enjoy, but this time, thanks to the wireless world, by phone. On bad weather days, we will Skype and drink tea (her) and coffee (me.) Another valued friend has reached out to schedule Skype with me. I can't remember when we last had time together, but I cringe to think it was last winter or spring.
At the core of my spiritual knowing is that we are intended to listen to our guidance and follow it...when it is given. I have great stories to tell about the magic that occurred when I did so, and equally disappointing tales of when I didn't follow or followed two or three years later. Yet, whether the commitment is to lunch, to talk with a friend of a friend, or to finish teaching a course which I'd committed to teach until May when my guidance in February is to move out of state, those commitments get in the way of my followership.
I also believe that the very best things are the spontaneous ones. I used to call another friend at the end of a work day, and we'd hatch a plan for a thrown-together dinner or a movie or just a walk around the Mall. Once we created a beautiful stool for my kitchen over a bottle of prosecco. (She's the artist; I did the grunt painting. It was fun nonetheless.) As I have less and less spontaneous time, we've spent less and less time together, an incredible disappointment to me.
And, it isn't just people. I've wanted to take some MOOCs--free massive online courses offered by prominent universities. Just this morning I discovered an inspiring design class and a future-cities architecture class, both offered by the University of Zurich. I can feel my heart racing even as I write about these two topics for which I have great interest.
I also found a health and wellness certification class for coaches, an endorsement for a topic for which has interested me since my grandmother first talked to me about vitamins and organic vegetables when I was 10. I've been enrolled in the class twice before and had to drop it. Some of these things have to be scheduled or I miss out.
As I stand on the cusp of an era in which I've pledged to be true to my heart, which do I do? Do I schedule things so that I make sure the important things happen, or do I hold the space for the spontaneous, knowing I will miss much without it and also knowing that I will miss much without scheduling? How to I remain true to both of these things? And, how do I make sure I still have time for the 15 minutes of exercise and writing.
As I write this, I am reminded that beginning from my childhood, I wanted to dance. My mother didn't want me to dance. As I got older, I was too busy to take lessons and didn't have an interested partner. Then, in 1995 when my neck broke spontaneously, and I teetered on the cusp of quadriplegia or death, I knew beyond doubt that if I walked again, walk being the operative word, that I must dance. I did walk. I did dance. It brings me more pleasure than almost anything in my life...and I make time for it. I schedule a car, usually a week or two in advance. And, yes, occasionally I don't feel like going, and I cancel the car.
I also make time for cooking, something I find I much more enjoyable when it is spontaneous than when I plan an event to cook for.
When I worked more closely with leadership teams to increase their effectiveness, I developed a meeting management concept that most found extremely valuable. For a couple hours before their weekly meeting, they would submit two categories of agenda items. First were things that were urgent and without a decision in the next week, there would be irreversible consequences. Then, they were to submit topics that were important to the future of their enterprise, but for which they never had time to talk. At the start of the meeting, items were ordered. Rarely were items of such urgency that dire consequences would occur if they weren't discussed. By giving thoughtful dialogue to one or two really important items, they did the important work of consciously choosing the path for their organization's future...and often resolving "urgent" items along the way.
Here I am on January 1 with no clear answers about what is the right approach for time in my life. I wonder if the right answer is that there are no right answers for every day. I just need to be fully present to my intentions, acting at the time instead of reacting to my calendar. What comes to me is that if I take the learning from my meeting management approach, starting each day with what is urgent and what is important for that day, my spiritual priorities may just resolve themselves without any "right" path which works for every situation.
*Alyssa Shafer, "The Do-It-Daily" challenge, Dr. Oz The Good Life magazine, Jan/Feb 2017, P. 48.
Showing posts with label priorities. Show all posts
Showing posts with label priorities. Show all posts
Sunday, January 1, 2017
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Falling back
Today is that delicious day we each get once a year when we set our clocks back and get an extra hour of either sleep or daytime activity. I got a little of each.
I expectedly awakened a little earlier than I normally would on a Sunday, and I indulged myself in an extended period of prayer, something I'd been yearning for since mid-summer when I began the chaotic wind down of my old job and transition into what is seeming to be an equally busy new job.
For me, prayer satisfies me most when I do it regularly. I think of it as being a bit like exercise. When I am doing either every day, I slide into it easily and often get into "the zone"--that enchanting place where time and space cease to exist, and I am mindfully in the present. However, not unlike being off exercise for a while, when I come back to prayer after time away, I struggle.
Now it isn't as if I haven't prayed for months. I have. Yet instead of deep, solace-inducing communion, my prayers have been less two-way communication and deep listening and more pleas for aid, like "Help me know what to do right now," "Show me the way," or "Help me get through this day." More often than not, I heard no answer. I am sure that the answers were there, but I was either not present enough to receive the answer or overly intellectualizing to figure the answer out myself. Most likely, both.
This morning the need to develop my prayer muscles was clearly apparent.
With that said, I did hear that I should write a blog post, so here I am. I do often feel that writing becomes a prayer for me, and my listening becomes richer when I allow myself to not know what it is I am going to write but rather just allow it to flow through me. As I write this post, I understand some of what was missing from my prayers this morning that I couldn't seem to know when I was in them.
Back in the day when I prayed with clients, I used the term "let your prayers pray you."
"God," I said, "would let us know what we should be praying for." Then we would sit and pray together. Often what would come up would be things about which my mind would never have thought to pray. "Thank you for the birds that sing outside my window every morning," or "Thank you for the sun and its warmth on my skin when I walk." Occasionally, I expressed gratitude for just being still.
The most interesting thing about letting my prayers pray me is that much, maybe most, of my prayers uttered from that space expressed gratitude and, more often than not, they acknowledged the little things in life of which I so often don't even make notice. I believe that focusing attention on the exquisite order of the world around me diminished whatever might have been on my heart and mind that day to an appropriate proportion.
The practice also reminds me of the non-linear nature of the Universe. For instance, my struggle to pray this morning did send me to computer to write about prayer. Now I remember what I had forgotten about praying and can go back to prayer again with an open heart and mind.
Soon, I will do that.
As I ponder doing so, however, the thought that nags at me is how I got so far from my prayer practice to have forgotten how to connect. The answer may go back to the metaphor of exercise. My actions haven't made either priorities when in my heart I know that I ache for both. Articulated priorities, which aren't acted upon as such, are clearly not the focus of our intention.
In the busyness of a life that seems to be driven by urgencies, like finding a new refrigerator before all my food thaws on a gorgeous fall day when I would prefer to go for a long walk in the woods. Always there seems to be something urgent that cuts into my time. Yet if I want my life to reflect the focus of my intentions, I must act accordingly.
I truly don't have an answer for the refrigerator-versus-the-fall-walk dilemma but somehow I know in my heart that if I spend more time in prayer and exercise, how to bring life to my intentions will become clear to me. Right now, I am savoring the extra hour to focus on prayer and exercise and feeling comfortable pushing back the urgent for just a little longer.
I expectedly awakened a little earlier than I normally would on a Sunday, and I indulged myself in an extended period of prayer, something I'd been yearning for since mid-summer when I began the chaotic wind down of my old job and transition into what is seeming to be an equally busy new job.
For me, prayer satisfies me most when I do it regularly. I think of it as being a bit like exercise. When I am doing either every day, I slide into it easily and often get into "the zone"--that enchanting place where time and space cease to exist, and I am mindfully in the present. However, not unlike being off exercise for a while, when I come back to prayer after time away, I struggle.
Now it isn't as if I haven't prayed for months. I have. Yet instead of deep, solace-inducing communion, my prayers have been less two-way communication and deep listening and more pleas for aid, like "Help me know what to do right now," "Show me the way," or "Help me get through this day." More often than not, I heard no answer. I am sure that the answers were there, but I was either not present enough to receive the answer or overly intellectualizing to figure the answer out myself. Most likely, both.
This morning the need to develop my prayer muscles was clearly apparent.
With that said, I did hear that I should write a blog post, so here I am. I do often feel that writing becomes a prayer for me, and my listening becomes richer when I allow myself to not know what it is I am going to write but rather just allow it to flow through me. As I write this post, I understand some of what was missing from my prayers this morning that I couldn't seem to know when I was in them.
Back in the day when I prayed with clients, I used the term "let your prayers pray you."
"God," I said, "would let us know what we should be praying for." Then we would sit and pray together. Often what would come up would be things about which my mind would never have thought to pray. "Thank you for the birds that sing outside my window every morning," or "Thank you for the sun and its warmth on my skin when I walk." Occasionally, I expressed gratitude for just being still.
The most interesting thing about letting my prayers pray me is that much, maybe most, of my prayers uttered from that space expressed gratitude and, more often than not, they acknowledged the little things in life of which I so often don't even make notice. I believe that focusing attention on the exquisite order of the world around me diminished whatever might have been on my heart and mind that day to an appropriate proportion.
The practice also reminds me of the non-linear nature of the Universe. For instance, my struggle to pray this morning did send me to computer to write about prayer. Now I remember what I had forgotten about praying and can go back to prayer again with an open heart and mind.
Soon, I will do that.
As I ponder doing so, however, the thought that nags at me is how I got so far from my prayer practice to have forgotten how to connect. The answer may go back to the metaphor of exercise. My actions haven't made either priorities when in my heart I know that I ache for both. Articulated priorities, which aren't acted upon as such, are clearly not the focus of our intention.
In the busyness of a life that seems to be driven by urgencies, like finding a new refrigerator before all my food thaws on a gorgeous fall day when I would prefer to go for a long walk in the woods. Always there seems to be something urgent that cuts into my time. Yet if I want my life to reflect the focus of my intentions, I must act accordingly.
I truly don't have an answer for the refrigerator-versus-the-fall-walk dilemma but somehow I know in my heart that if I spend more time in prayer and exercise, how to bring life to my intentions will become clear to me. Right now, I am savoring the extra hour to focus on prayer and exercise and feeling comfortable pushing back the urgent for just a little longer.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
I am NOT too busy to...
A couple weeks ago I sat having a deliciously lingering lunch with a friend. The last time I saw her was last summer, probably at least 9 months ago. As we shared stories and reflections, I found myself lamenting that my work has so grabbed hold of my life that I no longer had time for things that were truly important, like connecting with friends and having such relaxed conversation.
In the course of our conversation, I discovered that my friend hadn't even been to my "new" apartment since I was still moving in. I've settled in, painted, remodeled, and been in it now for 2-1/2 years. How could I let that happen? I love cooking and having guests in my home. I realized that, except for one friend who comes over 3-4 times a year, I haven't had people over except during the holidays.
Last week I had my annual physical, and my blood pressure, which has always been on the low side of normal, had jumped 20 points. My doctor asked about exercise, mediation, and other stress-relieving practices that he knew had been part of my routine for years. "My work allows for little except work and sleep. When I try to meditate, I fall asleep," I explained. It felt like a pitiful excuse.
Several weeks earlier, our assistant rector talked about the unpleasant reality for many of us of being too busy to do things we enjoy or think we would enjoy. She encouraged us to catch ourselves each time we started to say we were too busy to do something and correct ourselves, by saying, "I am NOT too busy...."
In each of the situations above, I found her words echoing in the back of my brain. While I have not developed the I-am-NOT-too-busy muscle yet, the haunting consciousness is there. I always say that awareness is 90 percent of the battle.
Instead of cleaning my apartment, which really needed it, last weekend, I curled up with a book I had been enjoying, and then on Thursday I went to a new-to-me book club to discuss it. I used to read a lot. Last weekend I reminded myself that "I am NOT too busy" to read.
Today after church I walked to the DuPont Circle Farmer's Market, one of the best in the nation, to buy my favorite gluten-free ginger chocolate chip scone. Doing so was a treat in which I hadn't indulged myself since last fall. After two weeks of rain, we have a splendid sunny day. I sat on a bench, lingering over each and every bite of the scone, and just drank in the sun, as it warmed my face. "I am NOT too busy for this," I reminded myself.
While I have found it difficult to make doing things that I treasure a priority in recent years, I do like to think that when I do them, I am pretty good at really being present. I will almost never check texts or email on my smartphone while with a friend, as many now make a regular practice. When my friend and I had lunch, I was totally focused on our connection. When I was reading, I was in the book. When I was enjoying my scone, I savored every bite. While I'd like to bring the mastery of being present to the whole of my life, for now, I will be grateful that when I bring intention to doing so, I really can be present.
When I entered my door this afternoon, I headed to the kitchen to start my list of things I had to do before another busy week got ahead of me. Instead, I caught myself. Remembering the assistant rector's words, I said to myself "I am NOT too busy to write a blogpost," not only something I really enjoy, but a spiritual practice for me that keeps me headed in the direction I want my life to go. So, I put down the list-making paper, made myself a cup of coffee, and here I am writing.
Although all those things still need to be done before the week takes off at warp speed, instead of doing chores and tasks, I think I will now change clothes and go for a walk on this first gorgeous spring day in a while. At least for this day, my priorities feel like they are in order.
In the course of our conversation, I discovered that my friend hadn't even been to my "new" apartment since I was still moving in. I've settled in, painted, remodeled, and been in it now for 2-1/2 years. How could I let that happen? I love cooking and having guests in my home. I realized that, except for one friend who comes over 3-4 times a year, I haven't had people over except during the holidays.
Last week I had my annual physical, and my blood pressure, which has always been on the low side of normal, had jumped 20 points. My doctor asked about exercise, mediation, and other stress-relieving practices that he knew had been part of my routine for years. "My work allows for little except work and sleep. When I try to meditate, I fall asleep," I explained. It felt like a pitiful excuse.
Several weeks earlier, our assistant rector talked about the unpleasant reality for many of us of being too busy to do things we enjoy or think we would enjoy. She encouraged us to catch ourselves each time we started to say we were too busy to do something and correct ourselves, by saying, "I am NOT too busy...."
In each of the situations above, I found her words echoing in the back of my brain. While I have not developed the I-am-NOT-too-busy muscle yet, the haunting consciousness is there. I always say that awareness is 90 percent of the battle.
Instead of cleaning my apartment, which really needed it, last weekend, I curled up with a book I had been enjoying, and then on Thursday I went to a new-to-me book club to discuss it. I used to read a lot. Last weekend I reminded myself that "I am NOT too busy" to read.
Today after church I walked to the DuPont Circle Farmer's Market, one of the best in the nation, to buy my favorite gluten-free ginger chocolate chip scone. Doing so was a treat in which I hadn't indulged myself since last fall. After two weeks of rain, we have a splendid sunny day. I sat on a bench, lingering over each and every bite of the scone, and just drank in the sun, as it warmed my face. "I am NOT too busy for this," I reminded myself.
While I have found it difficult to make doing things that I treasure a priority in recent years, I do like to think that when I do them, I am pretty good at really being present. I will almost never check texts or email on my smartphone while with a friend, as many now make a regular practice. When my friend and I had lunch, I was totally focused on our connection. When I was reading, I was in the book. When I was enjoying my scone, I savored every bite. While I'd like to bring the mastery of being present to the whole of my life, for now, I will be grateful that when I bring intention to doing so, I really can be present.
When I entered my door this afternoon, I headed to the kitchen to start my list of things I had to do before another busy week got ahead of me. Instead, I caught myself. Remembering the assistant rector's words, I said to myself "I am NOT too busy to write a blogpost," not only something I really enjoy, but a spiritual practice for me that keeps me headed in the direction I want my life to go. So, I put down the list-making paper, made myself a cup of coffee, and here I am writing.
Although all those things still need to be done before the week takes off at warp speed, instead of doing chores and tasks, I think I will now change clothes and go for a walk on this first gorgeous spring day in a while. At least for this day, my priorities feel like they are in order.
Friday, October 23, 2015
Boundaries and Priorities
I went by my old office today to plug my computer into the network, which updates software and allows me to perform functions that I can only perform when I am "in house." I thought I would coach two clients from there rather than by phone since I was in the building. I needed to chat with my boss about my detail. Slam dunk, I thought: three hours tops. Out by 4 p.m., I guessed. Wrong! I walked out just before the 7 p.m. closing of the entrance to our building closest to the Metro.
How did this happen, I thought, as the security guard swung by our office at 6 to see why I was there so late. I've continued to ponder that question into the evening. I took a walk and thought about it more. I need to be better about establishing priorities and setting boundaries. I have made the assumption that if something was on my plate, I had to do it.
As I walked, I thought, I need to be better about assessing the consequences. If bad consequences will result, I should probably do a task. If really bad consequences will result, I should definitely do it. But, what, I asked myself were bad consequences. I've learned during this detail that I can push things off for several months that I used to think needed immediate attention. No bad consequences. No dire consequences.
I also thought about what were bad consequences. I actually sat and brought my relaxed self to conversations with three colleagues. I took time to embrace and connect with another colleague who is battling cancer and was back in the office. Sitting and talking have not been luxuries that I thought I could afford, but the truth is that neglecting those relationships may have carried the worst consequences.
Yes, I will submit my input for my evaluation for to not do so would be foolish and may have significant consequences. But, my email box that is in Outlook Limbo, I have no ideas what will happen if it overflows. So I don't get email. I have an out-of-office message that says I won't be back until February. Shrug! Somewhere in between is the password that I need to update, which seems always to need to be updated. Maybe yes, maybe no.
Most important of my discoveries today is that I need to make myself a priority. I am much better leaving an office at 5 than at 7, especially since my days start at 7:30. Getting my exercise, having a relaxed dinner, reading a book, and getting a good night's sleep have been the bottom on my priorities, which I've learned are really nourishing to me.
If this all seems like common sense that I could/should have figured out decades ago, you're right. I should have. I didn't. I am getting it now. Better late than never.
How did this happen, I thought, as the security guard swung by our office at 6 to see why I was there so late. I've continued to ponder that question into the evening. I took a walk and thought about it more. I need to be better about establishing priorities and setting boundaries. I have made the assumption that if something was on my plate, I had to do it.
As I walked, I thought, I need to be better about assessing the consequences. If bad consequences will result, I should probably do a task. If really bad consequences will result, I should definitely do it. But, what, I asked myself were bad consequences. I've learned during this detail that I can push things off for several months that I used to think needed immediate attention. No bad consequences. No dire consequences.
I also thought about what were bad consequences. I actually sat and brought my relaxed self to conversations with three colleagues. I took time to embrace and connect with another colleague who is battling cancer and was back in the office. Sitting and talking have not been luxuries that I thought I could afford, but the truth is that neglecting those relationships may have carried the worst consequences.
Yes, I will submit my input for my evaluation for to not do so would be foolish and may have significant consequences. But, my email box that is in Outlook Limbo, I have no ideas what will happen if it overflows. So I don't get email. I have an out-of-office message that says I won't be back until February. Shrug! Somewhere in between is the password that I need to update, which seems always to need to be updated. Maybe yes, maybe no.
Most important of my discoveries today is that I need to make myself a priority. I am much better leaving an office at 5 than at 7, especially since my days start at 7:30. Getting my exercise, having a relaxed dinner, reading a book, and getting a good night's sleep have been the bottom on my priorities, which I've learned are really nourishing to me.
If this all seems like common sense that I could/should have figured out decades ago, you're right. I should have. I didn't. I am getting it now. Better late than never.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Tithing
Tithing. The practice of giving away one-tenth of one's income. Some people say it must be given to the church or a religious organization. Others think it can be given to any charitable cause. Some debate whether the ten percent is before tax or after tax or even if the tax is part of the ten percent.
For a very long time, I "religiously" gave away my ten percent. I fall in the camp of any charitable cause. On the last time my client and I were together during an intentional living intensive before the client went home, we would talk about my tithe. I always shared half of it with a charity of my client's choosing. That was a rich experience. My dollars went off to many wonderful causes that I would never have known about otherwise. During the summer when many North Carolinians were thrown from their homes by Hurricane Floyd, I explained my sharing approach, and then I would ask if they minded if both halves went to the storm victims. They always said "yes."
When I first moved to North Carolina from Oregon, one of the first things I did was research potential local recipients because I felt it was important for me to know where my tithes would go before I started earning money in my new home state. In recent years, giving has been an important part of my budget, but I've never had enough that I felt I could make a full tithe. Whenever I received a bonus or a tax refund, a large part of it went to making up some of the gap.
When I was in the fifth grade, my teacher had us write a paper about what we would do with a million dollars. Most of my classmates wrote about what they'd get for themselves. I wrote about the good work I would do in the world with it. Perhaps that is the result of a firm spiritual foundation early in my life. I was taught to tithe, even when I received a dime for an allowance; I would give a penny to my church. There is something about seeding my money to worthy causes that makes me feel complete. I truly am happier giving than receiving.
This pay period I received a promotion. For the first time in five years, I have the flexibility to actually choose where I spend rather than trying to figure out how I will be able to pay the bills. My financial planner says it should all go to my meager retirement fund, and some will. However, in my heart of hearts, I know that much of it needs to go to causes I feel strongly about. I am excited about being able to choose who I will share with, not that what I am able to give will make any meaningful difference to those organizations. Inside me, there is a 3 or 4-year-old taking a penny of her 10-cent allowance to give away...and feeling almost giddy about doing so.
A friend of mine once was angry because she felt her father supported worthy causes because it made him feel good rather than just doing good. Frankly, I think it is wonderful to feel good about doing good.
Generally, I've identified several causes that were aligned with my goals for giving, and then I have given an equal amount each month. Yet as I write this, what is coming to me that rather than being thoughtful about my new giving, this time I should be more prayerful about it. My guidance is that each pay period, I should sit and pray about where to send the money. I like the idea, and I am guessing that it will end up going places I couldn't have anticipated...and once again, I am feeling almost giddy about it. I have no apologies about feeling good about doing good with my money.
For a very long time, I "religiously" gave away my ten percent. I fall in the camp of any charitable cause. On the last time my client and I were together during an intentional living intensive before the client went home, we would talk about my tithe. I always shared half of it with a charity of my client's choosing. That was a rich experience. My dollars went off to many wonderful causes that I would never have known about otherwise. During the summer when many North Carolinians were thrown from their homes by Hurricane Floyd, I explained my sharing approach, and then I would ask if they minded if both halves went to the storm victims. They always said "yes."
When I first moved to North Carolina from Oregon, one of the first things I did was research potential local recipients because I felt it was important for me to know where my tithes would go before I started earning money in my new home state. In recent years, giving has been an important part of my budget, but I've never had enough that I felt I could make a full tithe. Whenever I received a bonus or a tax refund, a large part of it went to making up some of the gap.
When I was in the fifth grade, my teacher had us write a paper about what we would do with a million dollars. Most of my classmates wrote about what they'd get for themselves. I wrote about the good work I would do in the world with it. Perhaps that is the result of a firm spiritual foundation early in my life. I was taught to tithe, even when I received a dime for an allowance; I would give a penny to my church. There is something about seeding my money to worthy causes that makes me feel complete. I truly am happier giving than receiving.
This pay period I received a promotion. For the first time in five years, I have the flexibility to actually choose where I spend rather than trying to figure out how I will be able to pay the bills. My financial planner says it should all go to my meager retirement fund, and some will. However, in my heart of hearts, I know that much of it needs to go to causes I feel strongly about. I am excited about being able to choose who I will share with, not that what I am able to give will make any meaningful difference to those organizations. Inside me, there is a 3 or 4-year-old taking a penny of her 10-cent allowance to give away...and feeling almost giddy about doing so.
A friend of mine once was angry because she felt her father supported worthy causes because it made him feel good rather than just doing good. Frankly, I think it is wonderful to feel good about doing good.
Generally, I've identified several causes that were aligned with my goals for giving, and then I have given an equal amount each month. Yet as I write this, what is coming to me that rather than being thoughtful about my new giving, this time I should be more prayerful about it. My guidance is that each pay period, I should sit and pray about where to send the money. I like the idea, and I am guessing that it will end up going places I couldn't have anticipated...and once again, I am feeling almost giddy about it. I have no apologies about feeling good about doing good with my money.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Doing Unimportant Things
Over three days, I've been sharing three major take-aways that I've had from reading the children's book The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster (Random House Children's Books.) First, I explored becoming a Miracle Maker, and I challenged all of my readers to go make a miracle. Yesterday, I learned to notice what is often missed. Now, I will look at doing unimportant things. Today's lesson is particularly stinging for me. It is one that I am certain I am better at than I was 20 years ago, but I mastery is a long way off. On his quest, our young protagonist Milo is challenged to only do unimportant things. Here is the conversation in which he asks why he should only do unimportant things.
"But why do only unimportant things?" asked Milo. The answer: "Think of all the trouble it saves...If you only do the easy and useless jobs, you'll never have to worry about the important ones which are so difficult. You just won't have the time. For there's always something to do to keep you from what you really should be doing, and...you'd never know how much time you were wasting."
What I "really should be doing" is writing more--writing this blog more regularly again, finishing the memoir I started during the winter, and placing The Game Called Life on Amazon as an ebook, a process begun last fall. What else I should be doing is exercising more. Why don't I what's important to me? My answer is always that I don't have time. More truthfully, the answer might be I am doing unimportant things. I had almost two hours to watch a movie last night, and I've had time at least two nights in the last 10 to watch mindless (truly mindless) television. Those are unimportant things.
But, the answer to the "Why don't I?" question isn't as straight-forward as it may seem. I work long hours, and I come home so brain-dead that making dinner, making lunch and coffee for the next day, and falling on the couch to watch something mindless are the extent to which my brain will function. That, however, is an easy-out, and it begs the more probing question, "Why do I work so many hours?"
I'd like to say that it is because I care about my customers, and I want to make sure they get the services they need in a timely manner. That is absolutely true. I'd like to say it is because my boss has no clue what she has assigned me, and it is way more than any human could handle in the 40 hours that I am supposed to work. That is absolutely true. Yet, while both are absolutely true, there is more to the story.
I am a recovering work addict. Maybe back-sliding work addict is more accurate. Like all addictions, once an addict, always an addict. A person who isn't a work addict would have gone to my boss and put all the stuff on my plate in front of her, and then asked, "What don't you want me to do?" I haven't because I am afraid the answer will (in other words) be, "Don't take care of the customers," and instead do some meaningless task that someone will never notice.
Are the things that I do at work unimportant? Some are. Could I work smarter to eventually get ahead of the curve? Certainly, but my bosses can't see the strategy beyond today's demands. So in order to protect my important work, I do way too much. I work this way because I am a work addict. While I have made progress over the years, I have a long way to go. I totally own it.
(I gave up fall and spring housecleaning, a Midwestern practice where every inch of the house is cleaned within a few days twice each year, decades ago. You'll probably find the same dust bunnies under my bed that were there a year ago. I am now OK with friends visiting and seeing my almost-always-cluttered desk, which would have mortified me a few years ago. I've learned to live with the cracking paint on my balcony instead of repainting it, so that I have time to sit and contemplate the forest a few feet further away.)
Approaching life so that the writing, which feeds my soul, and the exercise that physically reinvigorates me drop off my plate is ripping the soul from me. Sacrificing these essential activities for lower priority activities just isn't working any more. When I read Milo's question and his collaborator's answer over the weekend, it pierced me. You will notice that I have written three nights in a row. Yeah!!
Tonight has been difficult. I had to choose between exercise, writing, getting the fob which allows me to enter the building validated, and helping a neighbor during his vacation. Exercise ate it tonight. Tomorrow evening it will most likely be writing that will slip, but I will get exercise walking to my dance class and light exercise in the class. I am making peace with that and even contemplating that I might write on my iPhone app on the train when I am coming home.
What is really important about making these hard choices is that I am really making them. That is what living with intention is really about: making conscious choices, based on my important priorities. I am not doing unimportant things like falling onto the couch to watch mindless TV. I am looking at my priorities and choosing among them. If I do this every day, who knows one day I might actually get that memoir done and The Game Called Life may soon be available for your Kindle. Better yet, one day I might actually ask the boss to take something off my plate.
"But why do only unimportant things?" asked Milo. The answer: "Think of all the trouble it saves...If you only do the easy and useless jobs, you'll never have to worry about the important ones which are so difficult. You just won't have the time. For there's always something to do to keep you from what you really should be doing, and...you'd never know how much time you were wasting."
What I "really should be doing" is writing more--writing this blog more regularly again, finishing the memoir I started during the winter, and placing The Game Called Life on Amazon as an ebook, a process begun last fall. What else I should be doing is exercising more. Why don't I what's important to me? My answer is always that I don't have time. More truthfully, the answer might be I am doing unimportant things. I had almost two hours to watch a movie last night, and I've had time at least two nights in the last 10 to watch mindless (truly mindless) television. Those are unimportant things.
But, the answer to the "Why don't I?" question isn't as straight-forward as it may seem. I work long hours, and I come home so brain-dead that making dinner, making lunch and coffee for the next day, and falling on the couch to watch something mindless are the extent to which my brain will function. That, however, is an easy-out, and it begs the more probing question, "Why do I work so many hours?"
I'd like to say that it is because I care about my customers, and I want to make sure they get the services they need in a timely manner. That is absolutely true. I'd like to say it is because my boss has no clue what she has assigned me, and it is way more than any human could handle in the 40 hours that I am supposed to work. That is absolutely true. Yet, while both are absolutely true, there is more to the story.
I am a recovering work addict. Maybe back-sliding work addict is more accurate. Like all addictions, once an addict, always an addict. A person who isn't a work addict would have gone to my boss and put all the stuff on my plate in front of her, and then asked, "What don't you want me to do?" I haven't because I am afraid the answer will (in other words) be, "Don't take care of the customers," and instead do some meaningless task that someone will never notice.
Are the things that I do at work unimportant? Some are. Could I work smarter to eventually get ahead of the curve? Certainly, but my bosses can't see the strategy beyond today's demands. So in order to protect my important work, I do way too much. I work this way because I am a work addict. While I have made progress over the years, I have a long way to go. I totally own it.
(I gave up fall and spring housecleaning, a Midwestern practice where every inch of the house is cleaned within a few days twice each year, decades ago. You'll probably find the same dust bunnies under my bed that were there a year ago. I am now OK with friends visiting and seeing my almost-always-cluttered desk, which would have mortified me a few years ago. I've learned to live with the cracking paint on my balcony instead of repainting it, so that I have time to sit and contemplate the forest a few feet further away.)
Approaching life so that the writing, which feeds my soul, and the exercise that physically reinvigorates me drop off my plate is ripping the soul from me. Sacrificing these essential activities for lower priority activities just isn't working any more. When I read Milo's question and his collaborator's answer over the weekend, it pierced me. You will notice that I have written three nights in a row. Yeah!!
Tonight has been difficult. I had to choose between exercise, writing, getting the fob which allows me to enter the building validated, and helping a neighbor during his vacation. Exercise ate it tonight. Tomorrow evening it will most likely be writing that will slip, but I will get exercise walking to my dance class and light exercise in the class. I am making peace with that and even contemplating that I might write on my iPhone app on the train when I am coming home.
What is really important about making these hard choices is that I am really making them. That is what living with intention is really about: making conscious choices, based on my important priorities. I am not doing unimportant things like falling onto the couch to watch mindless TV. I am looking at my priorities and choosing among them. If I do this every day, who knows one day I might actually get that memoir done and The Game Called Life may soon be available for your Kindle. Better yet, one day I might actually ask the boss to take something off my plate.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Making a life
"We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give." Winston Churchill
Yesterday I wrote about gratitude, and although we usually think about being grateful for something we receive, I did introduce the concept of giving as an element of gratitude. Today, I want to focus on giving. We can give many things. Money and things are easy to give. Time, commitment, focus, consistency, and passion are harder. These require that we give of ourselves--our life energy.
I am guilty of saying, "I'd really like to do that, but I don't have time." What I am saying is that I don't make that thing a priority in my life. Yet when I look at the time that I fritter away every week in activities that are meaningless to me, it is clear that time is not the issue. What has been lacking are commitment, focus, and consistency.
For at least a half dozen years, I'd talked about starting a blog about heart-knowing. Only this week have I mustered the commitment, focus, consistency, and, yes, time to actually do so. When I pushed myself to my computer to write my blog last night, I was really tired, and it was late. Where would the energy come from to write? But, I was committed to writing daily. A funny thing happened: by the time I was done writing, I was energized, satisfied, and passionate about what I'd written. I thought I was giving to others, and my gift came back to me tenfold.
I am not sure why I was surprised. Each time I've written a book my time in the "flow" state with the words tumbling out of me like water from a waterfall has left me deeply satisfied and with a heart warmth that glows from inside of me.
Whatever our gifts may be, when we make using them a priority, we give to the world the very thing we came here to give...and we are making a life by doing so. That's what I know in my heart today.
Yesterday I wrote about gratitude, and although we usually think about being grateful for something we receive, I did introduce the concept of giving as an element of gratitude. Today, I want to focus on giving. We can give many things. Money and things are easy to give. Time, commitment, focus, consistency, and passion are harder. These require that we give of ourselves--our life energy.
I am guilty of saying, "I'd really like to do that, but I don't have time." What I am saying is that I don't make that thing a priority in my life. Yet when I look at the time that I fritter away every week in activities that are meaningless to me, it is clear that time is not the issue. What has been lacking are commitment, focus, and consistency.
For at least a half dozen years, I'd talked about starting a blog about heart-knowing. Only this week have I mustered the commitment, focus, consistency, and, yes, time to actually do so. When I pushed myself to my computer to write my blog last night, I was really tired, and it was late. Where would the energy come from to write? But, I was committed to writing daily. A funny thing happened: by the time I was done writing, I was energized, satisfied, and passionate about what I'd written. I thought I was giving to others, and my gift came back to me tenfold.
I am not sure why I was surprised. Each time I've written a book my time in the "flow" state with the words tumbling out of me like water from a waterfall has left me deeply satisfied and with a heart warmth that glows from inside of me.
Whatever our gifts may be, when we make using them a priority, we give to the world the very thing we came here to give...and we are making a life by doing so. That's what I know in my heart today.
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