Finding Motivation: Tuesday's Reflection

"Each day prepares your next," so says Twyla Tharp in her new book, Keep It Moving, Lessons for the Rest of Your life.

Much to my delight I found this book, which was on my TBR list, in a Little Free Library. I chuckled when I noted the handwritten inscription,

                Christmas, 2019

                For Kate, 
               As you move forward, 
               a book about

               moving forward. 
              Much love, Bill and Julie.

Judging from the pristine condition of the book, Kate was having no part of it. Maybe she wasn't ready to move forward. Maybe she didn't see the need to move forward. Maybe Bill and Julie's "help" was not received as helpful. Maybe Kate prefers to be stuck or to remain in the status quo. 

Who knows, but perhaps Kate, like me, is not feeling motivated right now. 

I do not like that feeling. At all.

Here's a question that may help:

                 What's one thing I can do right now 
                 that will make everything easier or 
                 unnecessary later? 


As you know, if you have been reading my posts recently, my family is in a time of vigil and caretaking for my father who is nearing the end of his earthly life. Each morning before I leave my house and head over to Dad's apartment where my husband, brother or brother-in-law has spent the night, I ask myself what can I do right then to make things easier for myself when I come home later that day. What might feel like too big an effort after another day of vigil time? What won't I feel like doing once I get home again? Each morning I tell myself to empty the garbage or the dishwasher or fold the clothes in the dryer or even pay the bills. I decide what to fix for dinner, knowing I won't make the best choice when I am tired. And then I am ready to leave the house.

Sometimes the answer to the question involves more work, but will be so worthwhile later. Drawer by drawer, bit by bit, those of us who are allowed into his independent living facility are dismantling his apartment. The more we can do now, the less we have to do later. I hope that doesn't seem heartless. Dad is aware that we are doing this and loves knowing when someone in the family requests a certain treasure. He is tucked into his bedroom where he now sleeps most of the day, and in the other rooms we are slowly but surely sorting and packing and tossing and cleaning. 

Sometimes the answer to the question is more emotionally charged. When my mother died thirteen years ago, Dad asked me to write her obituary. I, of course, agreed, but wished I had given some thought to doing that task before it was absolutely necessary. Therefore, one day last week I wrote a draft for Dad's obituary, and I know when the time comes to use it, I will be so glad to have that ready.

I think we are each in a kind of vigil time, as we try to live and cope with the pandemic swirling around us. Instead of feeling motivated to do even the simplest of tasks, our energy is zapped as we wait, wonder, and worry, wanting only for IT to be over.  Only then will we be able to move forward, we think.  

Here's the rub, to quote Twyla Tharp again, "Each day prepares your next." How can we move forward tomorrow if we don't move forward today? Even in a simple or small way. Or as Annie Dillard says, "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." 


An Invitation

What is one thing you can do to move forward, to build for the next moment, the next day? I would love to know.