From Me to Me: A "Gift" I Keep on Giving

Dr. Timothy Pychyl, whose credentials are much more impressive, and whose blog Don't Delay, for Psychology Today, is much headier than mine, recently wrote a post entitled "Is Your Future Self Getting a Bad Deal?"  In it, he considers questions raised by Christine Tappolet in her chapter "Procrastination and Personal Identity," in the edited collection of essays The Thief of Time:  Philosophical Essays on Procrastination.

Tappolet uses the example of leaving the dishes for our future selves to wash, and argues that to do so consistently is to demonstrate a lack of concern for that heir to the crusted, stuck-to-the-countertop messes. [1]

Pychyl counters, in part, that we may reasonably expect that our future selves will have a greater capacity to manage the task than our exhausted present selves.  He likens this kind of procrastination to being willing to accept help from another when we are overwhelmed.  And he suggests that one way to alter this habit, if it is proving excessively burdensome for future self, is to develop and act on empathy for that future self, much as we might for another person.  I recognized myself in his observation that many of us will burden ourselves (present and future) in ways we wouldn't think of doing to someone else.

In her pre-vacation post this week, Gretchen Rubin (For anyone still living under a media blackout, she is the author of The Happiness Project, and the blog that gave birth to the book.) mentioned writer Anne Lamott's practice of referring to herself in the third person as a means of self-protection.  She cited this example:  “I’m sorry, Anne Lamott can’t accept that invitation to speak; she’s finishing a book so needs to keep her schedule clear.”

In a similar vein, I'm thinking it may help me to negotiate my procrastination tendencies to, well, actually negotiate with my future self.  Bringing the transaction into consciousness would force me to consider the impact of the implicit shifting of tasks from Today Me to Tomorrow Me, to weigh the relative capacities of each of these entities, and to exercise compassion toward both.  It would also promote a better accounting, and a fairer overall distribution of work to each party.  

There is, of course, the issue of progressive selves, and of determining whether my Tuesday Self or my February of 2011 Self should be recruited to deal with the chore I postpone today.  The calculus might become prohibitively complicated.  It might also cause a fracturing of self, ala Sybil.  

But it is an idea I intend to explore further, waking as I do this morning to some hangover items on my rolling to-do list, passed on to me without consultation by the selves of yesteryear.  (In my mind's eye--or the eye of the mind "I" occupy today--I have a vision of a bucket brigade, stretching into infinity, passing the bucket/buck from hand to hand, but never addressing the fire. . . .)

---

[1] I should note here that when I leave the dishes for another day, I sometimes delude myself as to the likelihood that another family member’s future self might step up to do them.  It happens with just enough frequency that blind hope enters into my calculations, to an extent dependant on my mood on any given day.  So I am reimagining Tappolet’s dishes as a work task that only I can do—but one that, like the dishes, becomes more irksome and requires more labor the longer it is left.

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. 

Life Management 101--Indecision, Incompletes, and Insufficient Focus

Chapter 4 of Laura Stack's Find More Time:  How to Get Things Done at Home, Organize Your Life, and Feel Great About It--the current featured resource of our Life Management 101 Tuesdays--is entitled "Mastering the Fourth Pillar--Pests."  Stack's book is organized around her 8 "Pillars of Personal Productivity," which means we are now halfway through our time-finding journey.

In her consideration of "Pests," Stack is referring, not to Wikipedia-defined pests, as in 

an animal which is detrimental to humans or human concerns. . . .  a loosely defined term, often overlapping with the related terms vermin, weeds, parasites and pathogens. In its broadest sense, a pest is a competitor of humanity; 

but rather as

the time-wasters and robbers that keep you from being able to accomplish your goals. . . .the 'termites' that eat away at [the] foundations [of our productivity]. 

So who knew "Pests" would be my second best pillar?  (Which means I'm relatively good at dealing with them, not that I am good at having them.)  Maybe it's because I've had so much practice in this area.  My "Pests" score consisted of the numbers associated with my responses to ten related items within Stack's Productivity Quiz.  (If you're curious about your own productivity scores, the quiz in its entirety can be found on Stack's website.)  I rated each quiz item on the following scale:  1) to no extent; 2) to a little extent; 3) to some extent; 4) to a considerable extent; or 5) to a great extent.  My responses are in red.

To what extent do I . . . 

• Confront problems head-on and make decisions quickly.  [2]
• Complete tasks I start; don't let projects stall.  [3]
• Keep interruptions from wasting my time.  [2]
• Create shortcuts to get things done quickly.  [2]
• Combine activities and routines.  [3]
• Make good use of down time.  [3]
• Turn off the technology when with my loved ones.  [3]
• Know and avoid my biggest time wasters and distractions.  [3]
• Make productive use of driving or commuting time.  [3]
• Eliminate aggravation and save time when traveling or flying.  [3]

To be honest, I had some difficulty figuring out the classification scheme that led to these issues/behaviors being lumped together in the "Pests" category.  And once again, I did not encounter in Stack's elaborations any suggestions that were new to me.  I am beginning to think that the main value of this book is the opportunity to conduct its assessment, and to take a clear-eyed look at where my stumbling blocks are.  Like, all over the place, apparently.


The author describes herself as having been focused on efficiency and productivity since childhood, when her "Air Force brat" existence had her pulling up stakes every year or so.  She recounts the routines she developed for packing and unpacking, for making an instant home in each new bedroom.  She has taken this life-long learning and turned it into a business.  But while her lists and calendars and control mechanisms may work for her, it is starting to seem a bit too nervous-making for me.  


For example, in Chapter 4, Stack takes care to differentiate "combining tasks" (Good) from multitasking (Bad).  In her view, 

multitasking . . . is switching back and forth quickly from one task to the other.  Combining actually means you are doing two activities at the same time.

In my view, whatever you want to call them, both make it difficult to be in one present moment, both raise my blood pressure, and both lead to exhaustion.


Her list of time-wasting activities includes some of my own worst time-sinks, but also some things I consider extremely important to my overall quality of life.  (I'll let you guess which are which.)

• Television
• Hanging out around the refrigerator
• Lolling through the dailynewspaper
• Checking e-mail as it comes in
• Surfing the Net
• Staying in bed too long
• Playing with your pet or a neighbor's (!) pet
• Taking personal phone calls
• Running for coffee
• Taking naps
• Dealing with home deliveries
• Doing home chores while you should be working
• Running errands one at a time
• Reading junk mail
• Socializing
• Letting guests overstay their welcome
• Working in your home office when you should be with your family
• Scheduling too many personal appointments during work hours
• Shopping

I did relate to what she had to say about ignoring one's family in favor of technological devices.  But I am particularly sensitized to this issue by an iPhone addict who has very recently (yesterday evening) returned home from a long absence, and who just this morning expected me to share his attention with his little hand-held friend.  (It is not escaping my notice that I am especially enamored of productivity advice that seems to apply more to my husband than to me!)


Halfway through Find More Time, I confess that I still haven't.  But I remain hopeful. 
Next week, Possessions--my lowest-scoring pillar.  Maybe I'll locate some extra hours lurking there. . . 

Done for the Week: Home for Christmas

My husband didn't make it back yesterday, as we had anticipated.  Apparently, Europe got more snow than they knew what to do with--literally.  You know it's not good when the first email you see upon waking Sunday morning displays the subject "Bad News," and goes on to detail chaos, long lines, threatening future forecasts, and no solid idea of when/if its author will ever return.


My sons and I put the unwanted additional separation time to good use, getting our tree up and decorated, and finishing a number of household rearrangements, cleaning and repairs.  But we are ready to be done with holding down this crumbling fort without assistance.  


Below is what I can remember accomplishing during this whirlwind week.

Done for the Week:  Dec. 13-19

1. Continued off-season race training; biked three times 
2. Succeeded in getting one son to gym with me once
3. Finished The Deepest Blue:  How Women Face and Overcome Depression, by Lauren Dockett 
4. Continued reading The Zen Path Through Depression, by Philip Martin, and Undoing Perpetual Stress: The Missing Connection Between Depression, Anxiety, and 21st Century Illness, by Richard O'Connor; and continued adding to my library stockpile
5. Took steps to resolve problem with not-for-profit organization, and to limit and focus my ongoing support
6. Worked my two part-time jobs
7. Published 5 blog posts
8. Wrote 7 Gratitude Journal entries
9. Wrote 5 Morning Pages
10. Meditated twice
11. Saw my therapist
12. Attended Solstice celebration, sans snowbound spouse
13. Attended Jobs Rally
14. Attended Community Meeting on Jobs Emergency
15. Attended Transitional Jobs meeting
16. Attended Board meeting
17. Participated in several transcontinental skype calls with absent spouse
18. Arranged for furnace repair, thereby restoring heat to our frigid home
19. Got electrician here for aborted wall oven install; ordered correct size and arranged return of too small model, and of electrician
20. Ordered replacement bathroom mirror and glass for dining room table  
21. Took my son out for (nonalcoholic) Happy Hour
22. Watched our two favorite basketball teams play 4 games, with son 
23. Foraged for food at the grocery store several times
24. Survived fourth week with absent spouse
25. Survived spouse's return Survived spouse's aborted return, when Europe was snowed in
26. Did lots of laundry
27. Gave significant but subtle support to two teenage sons stalled on the "launchpad" 
28. Made a significant dent in Christmas shopping
29. Got my husband's car's muffler repaired--for less than half the original astronomical estimate
30. Paid monthly bills
31. Got our Christmas tree up and decorated

Last week's focus goal was the same as the previous week-- "put first things, if not first, at least earlier in the day. . .  and to figure out what those first things might be, on any given day."  Last week, I determined that these first things (highlighted in green above) are generally blogging, meditating, exercising and keeping to the routine I've established for making progress on my novel.  This past week was a slight improvement over the previous one.  I maintained my Monday through Friday blogging; I exercised three times--one time more than the previous week; and I managed to meditate twice, even though my sangha did not meet for the second straight week because of site conflicts.  My novel-writing time, however,  fell victim to my grandson's cold, which prevented him from attending preschool, and thus me from observing my writing routine.  

This coming week culminates in Christmas, with all that implies for disruption.  My focus goal for this week?  Same as last week.  And again, I hope to continue to improve.  At this rate, I'll be holding my book party in a nursing home.

Last weeks' most important accomplishment, in my view, was resolving the previous week's crisis/dilemma concerning the nonprofit I have been deeply enmeshed with for the past couple of years.  I have high hopes that my future role(s) in this organization I continue to care about will be more limited, and more appropriate.  


This coming week will begin with a delayed reunion.  I imagine the adjustment will take up its share of these last few days before Christmas--as in the day my husband will "be home for."