What the World Needs Now is . . . Yet Another Blog Post?

If you're a writer, maybe you are familiar with the dreaded bookstore malaise.  You know how sometimes, in mid-browse, you are suddenly overtaken with the strong sense that the world doesn't really need another book, especially not yours?  All those shiny jackets, fawning blurbs, and beautiful words seem so sufficient.  And really, you're not exactly Jane Austen, or the next MacArthur genius, are you?

I have recently stepped up my readership in the blogosphere.  Perhaps a mistake. 

Today, I have that sucked-out, flattened, so-so-many-books feeling about my blog posts.  With all these ideas, and stories, and images and sentences swirling around in hyperspace, what difference can it possibly make if I manage to crank out another post?  I feel redundant.  Cliche.  Superfluous.

I suppose it's temporary.

I've always managed to recover from the bookstore thing.  And gone on to scribble, fairly relentlessly, if not yet to a satisfactory conclusion.

When my children have denigrated their talents, I have attempted to buttress their spirits with the example of a profusion of flowers.  Or of snowflakes.  No two alike.  Each one having its part to play, its contribution to make in the bouquet, or the blizzard. 

Tonight, my small effort is this self-questioning post.  This reaction to the multitude of online commentary in which I've been immersed.  This dark night of the blogger's soul.

Done for the Week: Crossing the Finish Line

Back from my day at the races.  But not back to earth.  Not yet.  And not for a while, if I can help it.

Here's the story of what I got done last week: 

Done for the Week:  Aug. 15-21, 2011

1. Completed Week 15 of 15-week triathlon training program, resting for race; ran twice; biked once; swam twice
2. Worked out and meditated several times with my training partner
3. Attended second Open Water Swim class
4. Swam across the lake--sort of 
5. Rented new, larger, more life-sustaining wetsuit (unlike the one I own, this one permits breathing, which I've come to appreciate--the hard way!)
6. Continued working on pre-race anxiety, mental training, pre-race nutrition and hydration
7. Packed to leave town for the race
8. Picked up race packet; bought stuff at the expo 
9. Shared pre-race dinner with my husband and training partner
10. Did gear check with my training partner
11. Finished the race!!!  Beat even my stretch goal
12. Celebrated with my training partner and friend, who also finished with strength and grace
13. Attended triathlon camp reunion, post-race
14. Helped youngest son prepare for first long-distance flight on his own
15. Finished No Death, No Fear:  Comforting Wisdom for Life, by Thich Nhat Hanh
16. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
17. Provided technical assistance to nonprofit organization
18. Meditated four times
19. Published 1 blog post
20. Continued reading Elizabeth George's In Pursuit of the Proper Sinner aloud with my husband
21. Continued work on current clients' projects
22. Attended Issues Night
23. Attended Jobs Prayer Vigil
24. Paid the monthly bills
25. Accomplished major cleaning/decluttering/rearrangement of main work room
26. Did laundry

Last week's focus goal was to "finish my training using the less-is-more and self-nurturing approach appropriate to the final days before the race."  Did that. 

Tuesday evening's pre-race swim across the lake proved even more of a hurdle than I had anticipated.  Last Monday I wrote about this planned workout that "I intend to get to the other side by any means necessary."  And by Tuesday night, I had delivered on that prediction.  The "means necessary" turned out to include yelling "Help!" in the middle of the lake when my extra small wetsuit and this year's two additional pounds combined in a way that was literally breathtaking.  After the motor boat came to my rescue, and I had regained my breath, but not my cool, I transversed about a third of the race distance using a "noodle."  Thus I joined the ranks of what my partner referred to as the "noodle girls."  A humbling, and scary experience overall.

Subsequent race preparation made room for learning all I could about how wetsuits can restrict breathing and contribute to panic attacks in the open water swim portion of a triathlon.  This led to re-thinking my sausage casing of a wetsuit, and deciding to rent one a size larger.  I also crammed in a short session in the pool on Friday trying out the borrowed suit.  The result?  I could breathe on race day, and made it all the way across the lake , without stopping to rest, or switching from freestyle.    Spent my way out a dilemma, but it was soooo worth it.

Last week's most important accomplishment--hands down--was finishing the triathlon.  Once again, I surprised myself by doing better than I expected.  I took 4:44 off the swim; 1:03 off T1 (the time spent shedding the wetsuit; getting on shoes, socks, helmet, Camelbak, and sunglasses; and, unfortunately discovering I had forgotten to unlock my bike before the race); 1:06 off T2 (bike to run); and 2:22 off last year's run time.  I added 1:18 to my bike time, but race officials had added 1.5 miles to the course this year.  My pace was just shy of 2 mph faster.  My net gain put me at 2:00:35--36 seconds over my "dream" goal of breaking 2 hours, nearly 2-1/2 minutes under my stretch goal of 2:03:00, and 4-1/2 minutes under the 2:05:00 I thought I would do.

Needless to say, I am ecstatic!  In my second tri, I moved from the back of the back of the pack, to a position near the middle--and in the top third of my age group. 

For today, I'm resting on my . . . ahem, laurels.  

My goal for the week:  come down gently, and as little as possible, from Cloud 9-3/4.

Done for the Week: Slip Sliding Away

A busy day today, finishing up yesterday's overly ambitious to-do list.  And a too-busy week last week, with too little to show for my efforts.

As with my efforts to remodel my swim stroke, my struggle to bring order to my life is proving strenuous.  The results of both campaigns to date urge refining my approach.

In any case, last week was not without its achievements.

Done for the Week:  July 11-17, 2011

1. Completed Week 10 of 15-week triathlon training program; ran twice; swam three times; biked twice
2. Swam twice, ran twice, biked once with my training partner 
3. Got bike computer installed, new water cage mounted
4. Watched series of YouTube videos on Total Immersion swimming
5. Finished Hamlet's Blackberry, by William Powers
6. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
7. Published 2 blog posts 
8. Shared Happy Hour dinner with my husband
9. Began watching new anime series with my son
10. Designed and printed new business cards
11. Went out driving with learning teenager several times 
12. Participated in driving my not-quite-licensed-to-drive son to his job
13. Continued to work on cracking the code for road test appointment; succeeded in moving appointment up 2 weeks
14. Worked on getting out the vote for recall primary
15. Made major progress on backyard reclamation
16. Picked up mower in for repair
17. Planted more flowers, two tomato plants
18. Went to jobs rally
19. Meditated once 
20. Saw my therapist
21. Bought new tent
22. Had first backyard campout with my grandson
23. Attended board meeting
24. Continued progress in cleaning/straightening/decluttering work room, bedroom & kitchen  

Finishing Hamlet's Blackberry:  A Practical Philosophy for Building a Good Life in the Digital Age, by William Powers, was last week's most important accomplishment.  The book made me rethink how much time I'm spending online these days.  Powers argues, and I am beginning to believe, that much of the anxiety and confusion many of us are experiencing in our lives, as well as a great deal of our difficulty with focusing and getting things done, represent side effects of our absorption in screens.  I plan to continue reflecting on how I can use the technology that surrounds me to accomplish more of what I care about, while avoiding more of its distractions.

Last week, for the fourth week running, my focus goal was to declutter our house, involving my housemates in the excavation, and starting with the kitchen, my work room, and our bedroom.  Unfortunately, my virus returned for an encore performance; my pregnant daughter spent a night in the emergency room, requiring me to give a day to watching my overtired grandson; the recall primary election demanded more volunteer hours; and "life happened" in other ways too numerous and dreary to mention.  I made a bit more progress, but I'm not "there" yet.  I'm giving it at least another week.

Yoga and meditation were among the things that didn't happen last week.  Symptomatic, I suppose, of my general difficulty with self-discipline in this period.  I intend to do better this week.

Growing Up Chaotic

Looking back through the "annals" of my year old blog, I observe a certain preoccupation with the question of routine.  Alternatively, I long for routine; loathe it; seek it; undermine it; break it; escape from it; and construct and reconstruct it.  But routine is almost never a neutral force in my life.  It is not familiar enough for that.

When I was visiting with one of my sisters recently, we discussed our familial problems with routine.  Neither of us was certain why we were raised with so little of the kind of scaffolding that can support day-to-day effort.  But, for whatever reason, both of us grew into seat-of-our-pants, fly-by-night moms, and workers, and housekeepers, and friends.  We meet the most ordinary recurring tasks fresh each time, as if caught by surprise that bills need to be paid again, groceries shopped for, meals prepared, kitchens cleaned, laundry done, jobs reported to, projects accomplished, holidays celebrated, etc., etc.

Psychologists might look to circumstances of our family of origin to explain this missing limb.  Our father was a grossly overworked and overworking physician, who struggled with depression for as far back as I can remember.  Our mother's lively intelligence was subsumed in the challenge of raising five children, and pretty much single-handedly keeping the home fires smoldering.  There is an abundant literature about what kinds of adults emerge from parenting by alcoholics, depressives, and others whose painful realities limit their availability for functional parenting. 

My siblings and I could certainly have turned out worse.  We are more or less "intact" and relatively "normal," whatever that means.  We have our parents' love and hard work to thank for that, at least partially, if not their happy natures.

But none of us has a particularly easy time organizing our days, or our lives.  We do have a whole identity as creative free spirits, a point of pride that may compensate somewhat for the energy we waste in reinventing "solutions" to commonplace problems.

Some days, though, I'd trade this sense of ersatz superiority for a mindless trance that would lead me through my to-do list, and a certainty born of "the way we've always done it."

Just Say Later

So, I'm still experiencing this lag between me and the world.  The latest thing I missed--to my knowledge--was International Procrastination Day, which was apparently last Friday, March 26.

This morning, I came across a Daily Telegraph article which identifies David d'Equainville as its founder.  What caught my eye was d'Equainville's casting of  procrastination as "a political act."  And not just any political act, but "a crucial act of resistance" in an increasingly overwhelming and speeded up society.  This is right up my alley.

Author of "Manifesto for a Day Put Off," recently released in French and soon to be published in English, d'Equainville says

To procrastinate is to refuse to do what the context -- be it from bosses, administrative obligations or a culture of results -- asks us to do. We must absolutely take the time to think about the tasks we accept to execute, or we will lose all control over our lives.

So I'm not a laggard, I'm a time activist.  

d'Equainville (my new hero) advocates taking time, not just to escape the rat race, but to reflect on decisions and actions, about "the tasks we accept to execute." He gives the example of Shakespeare's Romeo, who could have benefitted from some thinking time.   

If Romeo had put his suicide off a bit on Juliet's tomb, the two lovebirds could have grown old together.

d'Equainville gives his blessing to a delayed celebration of the day he established, so I'm declaring today for my observance of International Procrastination Day.  For the next 24 hours, I will tackle no project before its time.

To Resolve or Not To Resolve?

Okay.  Here it is the 5th of January, and I still haven't decided whether I'm making New Year's resolutions--or not.  So what is that about?


Maybe a pros and cons list will help me figure this out.  I have come up with the following positive thoughts about New Year's Resolutions--hereinafter referred to as NYRs.


NYR Pros
1.  I've (almost) always made them, so they're part of my tradition.
2.  NYRs give focus to my efforts to improve myself and my life.
3.  NYRs are useful conversation fodder at this time of year.
4.  If I manage to keep all or most--or what the heck! even some--of them, NYRs can strengthen my good opinion of myself.
5.  The exercise of considering and choosing NYRs makes for some pretty deep reflection.


All good, yes?  So why wouldn't I make like a polar bear and take the plunge?  What's not to love about NYRs?


NYR Cons
1.  I've (almost) always made them, so they're part of my tradition.  (Not so obviously a good thing.)
2.  NYRs can limit my focus, and concentrate my efforts too narrowly.
3.  As an NYR agnostic, I believe that my human mind is too small to know with certainty that NYRs have anything to do with outcomes, or with the quality of my life in the year ahead.
4.  If I manage to break all or most--or what the heck! even some--of them, NYRs can reinforce my low opinion of myself.
5.  The exercise of considering and choosing NYRs would require an amount of time and energy (given my perfectionism, which, come to think of it, maybe I should resolve to eliminate) that could be spent actually accomplishing something, resolved or not.


Clearly, neither list is exhaustive.  And since I have created two 5-item lists, I can't make my decision on a quantitative basis.  


As a fledgling Buddhist, I can see the attachment aspect of NYRs.  Not good.  But then I could resolve to let go of attachments. . . . But wouldn't that be basically becoming attached to the idea of non attachment?


Okay, now I'm getting a headache.


I have a provisional list of resolutions, just in case I decide to adopt any.  (Which makes me wonder who their original parents might have been, and why they decided to relinquish them.)


Revisiting last year's post on the subject of NYRs, I see that my quandary is not new.  Apparently, at least some things stay the same.  But what does that mean for the question at hand?  Resolve?  Don't resolve?


I resolve to think about it some more.

A Cast of Thousands, Each One Significant

Some of us are old enough to remember the heart-stopping daffodil scene from Dr. Zhivago;  spring, and life, returning after the ravages of the Siberian winter and war.  The artful cinematography drew the eye into the multitudes of blossoms, the profusion of glorious yellow, to a symphonic backdrop.  After what Yuri and his loves and his countrymen had been through, only this surfeit of daffodils would suffice.  


The scene came back to me this morning as I contemplated my fear of redundancy, and of being derivative.  This fear overtakes me especially in bookstores, and libraries, where I am surrounded by the words of others.  I encounter it, too, when confronted with the zillions of blogs dealing with issues of procrastination and productivity.  I know that I am not alone in the feeling that my little creations don't much matter against the scale of all that has been written.   


But if I look to the daffodils, I see that there is room for all that each of us can be, and make. We don't ask each individual flower to justify its blooming.  And we rejoice that when each one fades, there will eventually be others to gladden us.  


So if others write, and have written, and will write, it means nothing to the value of my work.  And I am not off the hook, after all.  My particular life can only be nurtured or neglected by me, for my own reasons.  And it is worth what it is worth.


In this season of underground regeneration, I will work on trusting that we are heading toward the light, that growth will occur, and that our individual beauty is enough. 

I Begin to See the Problem. . .

Does this elephant's passenger look in control to you?  


This morning's reading, a quick dip into Chip and Dan Heath's business best-seller Switch:  How to Change Things When Change is Hard, introduced me to Jonathan Haidt's (The Happiness Hypothesis) elephant and rider metaphor.  Haidt sees the two sides of our brains--the emotional system and its generally more presentable rational counterpart--in this way.  Clearly, the emotional elephant outweighs the rational rider, who is supposedly the leader but maintains her perch at the pleasure of her mount.  The Heaths recount instances of elephants holding sway that most of us can identify with, those times when we've

slept in, overeaten, dialed up [our] ex at midnight, procrastinated, tried to quit smoking and failed, skipped the gym, gotten angry and said something [we] regretted, abandoned [our] Spanish or piano lessons, refused to speak up in a meeting because [we] were scared, and so on.

Desired change, in ourselves or others we interact with, "require[s] the leader of the change to do three things at once," according to the Heaths.  The first is to alter the changee's situation.  The second and third are trickier, and necessitate changing the heart and the mind--the elephant and its rider.


I am intrigued with the introductory chapter in this book that suggested itself to me by virtue of "product placement" in the library.  I had stopped in to discuss a Yoga Journal dispute--I returned it, they didn't check it in--and while I waited through an accommodating circulation clerk's dismantling of the outdoor book drop, I perused the shelf of tantalizing volumes that occupies the wall closest to the front desk.  How could I not leave the library with a book about change, when kismet so clearly wanted us to join up?


And now that I have a glimmer of what I'm up against in my efforts to engineer myself and the world, I intend to push on to learn how to deal with the herds of stampeding pachyderms that confront me.  (And not a Babar in the bunch.)


More to come. . . 

Procrastinating 101: Making Breakthroughs, and Keeping My Clothes On

Chapter 16, and the second last chapter, in Marshall Cook's Slow Down. . .and Get More Done is entitled "Running Naked in the Streets."  Really.


So what does streaking have to do with productivity and the good life?


Well, apparently not too much, beyond contributing an intriguing chapter lead-in.  Cook is discussing creativity in this penultimate section of his book.  The streaking phrase comes from the story of Archimedes who lit upon the theory of displacement while in his bath, shouted "Eureka!" and headed for the streets to announce his discovery, not stopping to put on his clothes.  Cook takes off from this tale to discuss the thrill of creativity, and of novel ideas and inventions and solutions to problems.


As in other chapters, there is much material that, while quite enjoyable to read, does not seem to pertain directly to Cook's overall subject.  But he does eventually come around to the recommendation that we employ creativity to look at the metaphors for life and for ourselves that underpin the way we approach our efforts and our days.  The exercises he prescribes for accomplishing this examination ask us to, first of all, complete the statement "Life is _____" in as many ways as we can think of in three minutes.  Following that, we are to determine which of the statements we agree with, and then which seems to best capture our view of life.  Similarly, we are instructed to complete the statement "I am _____," again  jotting down as many ideas as we can in three minutes, and then performing the same sorting process to come up with that statement that best expresses how we see ourselves.  


At the conclusion of this exercise, Cook would have us "embrace our opposite," finding the statements about life and ourselves that are most unlike the ones we generally operate from.  And finally, we are to write a statement about ourselves as we would like to be, and then carry it around with us for a week, reading it often--as a way of pushing our reset.  Cook says

You won't become the reality simply by chanting the statement several times a day, but you can mentally and emotionally prepare yourself for the necessary changes.  You can begin calling forth from your Big Mind the wisdom and the will you need to become the person you want to be.  

I haven't completed my lists yet, but I am generally inclined to accept Cook's premise.  I do believe that the way we think about things, and ourselves, has a lot to do with how we act, and how we experience our lives.  And I accept that changing our categories and our assumptions can take us in new, and perhaps more satisfying directions.


When I do figure out my new "controlling metaphors," however, don't look for me to take to the streets, or the rooftops, with or without garments, to announce them.  Whatever I am, or might wish to be, I'm pretty sure "a streaker" isn't it.  Especially not at my latitude, and in this season.