My normal routine at the beginning of the week, usually sometime on Sunday, but maybe not till Monday morning, is to sit at my desk and plan my week. I start a fresh page in my notebook dedicated to lists and schedules and review what I had planned to do the previous week, but somehow didn't, my "leftovers" list, and what I need and want to do in the coming week, which I label "New This Week." Sometimes, as in the past week, I create a "writing" list and usually as the week goes on there is an "add-ons" list, based on things that come up during the week. Then there is the "Future" list, too, and that keeps growing, but last week, I am happy to say I accomplished a couple of those items, as well. Give me a gold star!
I know this is obsessive, and I know many, many of you function just great in your life without making written lists, but I come from a long line of list makers, and it is what works for me. My challenge, no surprise, is to divert from the list and to not be hard on myself when I don't check off all the "must do's." I am working on that --or should I say "playing" with that.
The Gift of Lists
What I know is that I often feel overwhelmed, but when I write down my list, even ridiculously long ones, life feels more manageable to me, and I am better able to determine priorities and even to let go--at least just a little bit.
Recently I found a quote from Patrick Ross's blog, The Artist's Road, http://artistsroad.wordpress.com/2014/01/27/turning-your-to-do-list-upside-down/ that helped me breathe a little easier.
I am feeling overwhelmed by too many things to do.
But is it possible that I am in fact blessed with an
abundance of things I could be doing?
He went on to quote an entrepreneur coach, Molly Gordon.
I no longer had the problem of not enough time and
balancing my life with my work; I had the gift of
more than enough to do.
During the early weeks of healing after breaking my ankle this week, I had no To Do lists, and my calendar was quite empty. Which would I rather have? A totally empty calendar and a nonexistent list or a calendar with a variety of events and appointments and a list that stretches onto the next page? Well, obviously, some sort of balance would be nice, but I am grateful to once again have "the gift of more than enough to do."
Lists and Choices
The more than enough to do comes with choices. Do I want to do this or that? How do I really want to spend my time? I remember a journal exercise I used to do quite frequently during the busy child raising, working full time years. I would make a list of what I had to do today and then a list of what I want to do today and somehow by doing that I made room for something I really wanted to do without sacrificing what absolutely had to be accomplished.
Now life is far more flexible for me, but it is still challenging to move my interests and desires into a prime position. When I do, I am proud of myself, and I feel so much better. The question is what prevents me from doing that more often? Old tapes that keep on playing, I suspect. Tapes about self-worth, and productivity, and living up to expectations, my own and those of others.
Earlier this month I set three intentions for myself -- to live stronger, more spontaneously, and with greater mindfulness. (See http://clearingthespace.blogspot.com/2014/07/thursdays-reflection-happy-new-year.html ), and as I write about my list-making propensity, I wonder how I am doing with my intentions. Well, I walk almost every morning and sometimes again later in the day again and do the prescribed exercises for flexibility and strength in my broken ankle. I have more energy than even a month ago, a sign I am rebuilding my strength.
I hope I am improving my ability to be spontaneous and mindful, too, and I know that is more possible when I use my lists as a spiritual tool, instead of the list using me. When I remember, the list is an aid to keep me awake and aware and not a cage with its own lock, and I am better able to live fully.
The weekly list can become a prayer list. I lift up the names of those to whom I need to send an email. When I pay bills because that is the next thing on the list, I give thanks for the ability to pay those bills and sit in a moment of silence for those who live in poverty. When I make plans with friends, I rejoice in the gift of friendship and the ability to laugh and play with others. Each item on a list can become an entry point to reflect on some aspect of the life you are living.
Yes, I repeat, I am obsessive about making lists, but isn't it time to embrace our quirks and let them work on behalf of the person we were created to be? May it be so.
An Invitation
Are you a list-maker or do you rebel against making lists? Either way, how can your habits deepen your spiritual practice? I would love to know.
I read recently that this elder stage in life is about the freedom to choose how I want to get tired. I like that, but this time is also about how I choose to stay awake. How I choose to engage, to stay engaged.
Recently, a friend introduced me to the book One Thousand Gifts, by Anne Voskamp, and she challenged me to start my own list of "gifts." An ongoing list in which I record "sanctuaries in moments," (p. 105) and "the cathedral of the moment" (p. 102). Keeping this list encourages me to notice all the gifts that surround me and fill my life.
# 6 A fresh journal, a good fast-writing pen
# 8 The car seat warmer on an early morning
# 18 Spontaneous lunch with a friend
# 24 Reading on the porch in the late afternoon, wrapped in a shawl
# 36 A good hair day!
# 46 The thud of the newspaper as it is tossed on the front porch
# 58 The reds, the yellows, the oranges. Oh my!
# 68 The smell of zucchini bread baking in the oven
# 83 A picture of my father taken this summer--a martini in his hand
# 86 The smell of Bruce's soap when he emerges from the bathroom in the morning
# 99 Gelato from Target--amaretto cherry!
# 106 A full day with a longtime friend
# 128 Safe arrival of a newborn grandnephew
# 142 Sounds of Bruce and Peter playing "hockey" in the front yard
# 163 Pheasants crossing the road
# 170 Laundry chugging along
# 175 Dressing the bed for fall and winter
# 185 Leftover homemade chili
# 196 The gift of a friend's words--"develop a quiet heart"
# 204 Two new books on my desk
# 217 The early morning sound of sandhill cranes
# 225 A clean bathroom and a clean me by 9:00 am
I love this spiritual practice, but I am also aware that as we age these precious present moments are rimmed by so much past, and the temptation might be to let the past swallow us. Instead, I invite the past to be an informant, giving us hints about how to be more in the present. At the same time our present moments at this age are so much closer to the future we all share --our arrival at death's door. "The only place we have to come before we die is the place of seeing God." (p. 108) And that is what the present is all about for me --staying awake in order to see, to know, to experience God in ourselves and in all around us. At a time when the past can dominate, the paradox is to live fully now. At a time when there are daily reminders of our common future as we lose friends and family, the challenge is to live now.
And that brings me to St Benedict and the tree by our garage. According to Esther de Wall in her book Seeking God, The Way of St Benedict, "St Benedict is the master of paradox, and if he tells us to move on he also tells us to stand still." (p 13)
The other day I felt at the center of this paradox. It was time to renew the lease on our apartment in St Paul. 6 months? Month to month? With our house still being on the market we are not able to take the next step and renewing the lease maintains the status quo. Standing still. That same day I packed up more dishes for the day when it will finally be time to move. Moving on. I wonder, Does this give the Universe a mixed message? How is it possible to move on and stand still at the same time?
What could be a better illustration of this paradox than the autumn trees? The leaves are falling, but the tree is still standing. The tree is not completely bare yet, but is in transition. Moving on and standing still seems to be happening at the same time.
I think the paradox of moving on and standing still is all about paying attention. When is it time to move on and what preparation does it take to move on when the time is right? What does moving on mean anyway and what does it require? And move on to what? And when is standing still--persevering, being steadfast and stable--the way to deepen spiritually? What is the difference between standing still and being stuck?
As always there are spiritual lessons, and this paradox seems to lead me to reflections on trust and patience, but also openness and awareness. And about maintaining the spiritual practices that keep me grounded and growing at the same time.
How is the paradox of moving on and standing still evident in your life right now?
And if you were to start a one thousand gifts list right now what would be your first item?