I'll start living when this is over...

I've been struggling today with how to not forget I have only four weeks until the Big Day, and how to continue living in the meantime.  Living in the moment is pretty effective when you just have to "do", but less so when you have to plan what to "do" so when the right moment arrives you are "doing" the right thing for that moment. 

So I'm living way too much in my head, spending way too much time thinking of work when I can't actually work, and working way too much.This may be one of those times when you just have to put your head down and keep trudging on.  Taking a 4 credit history class in a six week session was one of those times for me.  Knowing exactly when something will end is the only thing that keeps you going.  Have you had one of those times? 

How not to create a personal manifesto

I've long been fascinated by words to live by, manifestos, organizing principles -- that magical list that, once written, refined and codified -- would lead to happiness, fulfillment, satisfaction.  Dang, there's another list.

I was recently offered the opportunity to share my personal manifesto, which led to an intensive round of research and thinking and wanting to talk about it with people who had little interest. Manifesto Item #1:  Don't think and talk about things too much.

Now even I recognize that "too much" is a very subjective term, and seems to denigrate thinking and talking.  It goes further than I want to go.  But refining the concept of Item #1 just leads to more of the same behavior.  Item #2:  Beware of circular traps. 

I recently developed a list of six seven principles for my personal manifesto, and realized something right away.  This list is a reflection of how I feel today, and would have been different a week ago, or a year ago, and will probably be different tomorrow.  I'm constantly writing profound insights into one journal or another that are totally cryptic and meaningless today.  One is even just a date with the words "never forget."  Item #3:  Things change.

And going back to Item #1, how can I share my manifesto with others without violating my principles?  Is the act of sharing such a list helpful or just hopeful?  Back when I used to study and practice fictional character development, I learned you need to "show, not tell."  So people should be able to recognize my principles by my actions, not by some list.  Whew.  That's harsh.

I like the people I like and I like them a lot.  I love the people I love and I love them a lot.  And I feed that like and love by sharing with them, and asking them to share with me.  Which leads to the question -- where is the sweet spot in Item #1?  What does "just enough" look like?  What I've only realized recently is that it is very different in each and every relationship.  Which leads me to the question -- how do I achieve authenticity (being my best, true self) within so many different kinds of relationships?  All of these questions, of course, lead me back to Item #1.  It appears I have unresolvable issues with #1, so I'm dumping it.

Today's version got easier to write when I discovered I only had to talk to myself, not offer something that would work for the whole world.  I learned this by reading the first statement.  I guess that's the test for how "good" your personal principles are -- can you turn to them for guidance when you're in a tough spot? 

Today's Manifesto: 
Remember whose life you're living. 
You can have almost anything, but you can't have everything. Choose.*
When you start to panic, give yourself wise, mature, unconditional love.
Either do something about it or shut up about it.
Do it now.
Be honest with yourself, but be kind to yourself.
Never forget your intention**.  When you forget your intention, notice.  When you remember, start again.


*This is revised from one of the old maxims I used to employ to bore my children during long car trips.  It's shorter and more forceful now, less gentle, more realistic.  Exactly what I need today. 

**I have a lot to say about intention, which I intend to do, but for now I'm defining it as what you mean to do in any given situation or relationship, bundled up with how you wish to do it.

Empty Time

Since I'm not getting much done in the way of original content, I thought I'd share good things I'm reading.

http://marthabeck.com/2012/02/making-time-for-nothing/

Four months

Nearly four months since my last post.  I'm trying to figure out what I might have done in that time.  What I was doing.  Working, I guess.  A lot.  A trip up north, the holidays.  I find it easier to list all the things I think I might have done, would like to have done, but for some reason, didn't.  There is no story arc to the last four months, no trajectory.  No raison d'être.  If it would be helpful, here is the pronunciation:  ʁɛzɔ̃ d‿ɛːtʁ  

So let's go back to the little black box and Irma.

At about 10 o'clock, Irma found herself sitting in the little wing chair in the corner of the living room, the chair no one ever sat in, the one upholstered with hot pink peonies on a beige background.  She was thinking about buttons and coffee stains and little gold stars and feeling disoriented.  Her left leg kept bouncing, even when she reminded herself to stop.  She hadn't had that problem since she was ten years old.  Sit still, Irma. 

next

Irma picked up one of the stars, noticing that it reminded her of the pattern of her first kitchen curtains.  There were 4.2 reasons why she didn't really want to be reminded of that.  Before she could stop herself, she brushed her hand over the bush, poking her hands several times on the thorns, and all the stars fell to the ground.

Week Three

Irma pulled aside the curtain on the front door, peeked out, then stepped outside to check the weather.  No point in getting dressed until you knew about the weather.  Fifty-three degrees.  Partly sunny.  Okay.  Turning to go back inside, her attention was caught by the holly bush at the bottom of the front steps.  It was sprinkled here and there with shiny gold stars, about the size of a dime.  Moving closer, she poked at one, and it fluttered to a lower branch. 

Dear Jon Stewart,

I'm start to think you already have your hands plenty full dealing with all those people in Washington.  Man o Man!  How can they say such crazy stuff and get away with it?  I make just once teensy comment about the size of you know who's butt and only three other people hear it, and suddenly I'm off the Paint the Sunday School Room Committee and Lori Proctor, who has absolutely zero taste in paint, is in!  It just doesn't seem right.  It's okay, though, I'm not sure I fit in as well with those folks as my mom would like. 

So anyway, I'm still watching the show if I'm home and I'm still up, but I'm starting to see that the sort of problems I wanted you to solve are just not that big of a deal.  Except you might actually get somewhere with my ideas, unlike those people with the dull suits.