Hello! Here I am. Sitting down to write. Despite all the distractions tugging at my pant leg like a toddler. I’m reminded, as Oliver Burkman writes, that there are so many ways to avoid the most important things, to busy ourselves with the easy-to-check-off tasks at the cost of the more meaningful stuff. I am…uh…very adept at this.
There was a time in my life when my to-do lists were immaculate, an art even. Monthly priorities listed at the top. Action items aligned to said priorities and then broken down by importance and color coded into the calendar. I loved to revisit my lists. To cross things off, shuffle things around, recreate them entirely for further optimization. Somehow my to-do lists were very clear on the most important things and also the perfect distraction from actually doing them.
My to-do lists look very different now. They are simple. They are not a project in and of themselves. But, they still provide ample opportunities to not do the important thing in their chronicling of all the little things and miraculous ability to repopulate ad infinitum. The thrill of crossing off five small things is far more alluring than making imperceptible progress on a long term project. PROCESS OVER PRODUCT, they say! And I say it, too! But, being done feels so good!
When it comes down to it, the choice to sit down and write is the choice not to clean my house, or go to the bank, or return the library books on my kitchen counter. When I write, I’m not working on the lesson plans for Riley’s class, or folding the mounds of clean laundry, and I’m not with my kids either. I’m not reading other people’s writing and calling it research when it’s actually procrastination. I’m not shopping for a new swimsuit because I promised myself I’d finally invest in one that fits.
I used to think I couldn’t get to the important work until all the little tasks were done. I couldn't sit down to write unless my desk was cleared. I couldn't work on the big projects until the emails were read and the dishes were clean.
One time, when J and I were just dating, I walked into his house after work and found him sitting at his kitchen table intensely focused on an excel spreadsheet. Surrounding his computer was, well…what looked to me like trash. Junk mail. Post-it notes. Paperwork strewn, not stacked. Crumbled up notepad pages. A plate of crumbs and an empty coffee cup. I truly couldn’t understand how he was working in such disarray. You’re sitting in a trash heap, I thought…and said, ha! “How can you focus amidst all that mess?” He didn’t get it. The cleaning could wait. It wasn’t clean now, but it would be clean later…when he got done with the thing that took precedent. Huh? He was unbothered.
I don’t do my writing amidst a trash heap, lol, but I no longer cling to the clear space, clear mind illusion. Sometimes, there is mindfulness in a messy house. We are choosing with intention to prioritize something else. For me, it’s often presence with my kids instead of cleaning the toys as they go. We can choose not to clear our to-do lists or the kitchen table before we get to the important thing. Our to-do lists are never clear anyway, they are endless conveyor belts, as Burkman writes. We carve out space, we don’t clear it.
Carved out space, carved out mind? Is it the new clear space, clear mind!?
In the last few weeks, I have followed the distractions in every direction. I have logged onto Instagram on our desktop computer! Ew! I rewatched LOVE on Netflix (still love that show). I’ve listened to podcasts I didn’t even find interesting just to fill the little bits of silence while my kids nap. I have been…outside of myself. Not present. Doing all the little things to avoid the important ones.
In past posts, I touched on a recent loss. Though I’ll continue to keep it vague, the aftermath of this loss has been disorienting. I am grappling with the unknowable to a degree that’s more unsettling than the everyday not-knowing we all live with. I oscillate between manically looking for answers, perfecting the things I can control. imagining worst case scenarios, and clinging to blind (maybe even patronizing) optimism - it will all work out!!! I have found myself praying, and crying, and feeling gutted, jealous, and alone in flashes that comes and go haphazardly. The reason I share this is that I’ve noticed a tendency to lock into the unimportant with an eery intensity during this time. I am absorbed completely in research that is peripherally related to what happened. I am darting around town as if all the to-dos need to be DONE in an instant. I press “Next Episode” on Netflix when I usually wouldn’t. And then…when I pull back, when the show ends, or the errands are done, the present snaps back into focus and the facts are right there where I left them. And, for just an instant, before the my mind starts spinning stories, there’s a humbling cocktail of surrender and ambivalence…an it-is-what-it-is sensation. Perhaps it’s an existential clarity that is the gift of loss. The little things shuffle to the periphery of my consciousness, like the post-it notes strewn around Jared’s kitchen table, making space for the important stuff right at the center.
With love,
Stephanie
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Mmmmm yes, feeling you and experiencing such similar sensations. Beautiful read x
Thanks you ❤️ - nice to know you’re feeling it too