Tag: Taking Action

There is an odd feeling I get when I’ve agreed to do something, and I don’t do it for whatever reason.  ‘Guilt’ could describe it, but it’s not quite that simple, because I’m not talking about actual agreements I’ve made:  to do a job for an employer, to read in church on Sunday, to clean out the garage. No, I’m talking about the ideas that live in my head that I’ve finally decided to pursue and take action to make them happen.  Things like writing a book, to begin running again, to travel, to bring my French up to fluency level; those things that require discipline, action, and sacrifice of other, less significant things in my life. I use the word ‘sacrifice’ in describing one of the requirements in creating these things, as well as ‘discipline,’ because they are both so easy to forget.  The sacrifices called for are the little things with which we fill our days: checking email too often on our phones, reading that article we’ve been intending to read for months, deciding to have a drink before dinner, and any number of things that could be used, in my case, to write, to run, to parler Français, to plan a trip, along with other things that require me to focus on the bigger picture of my life, and make a decision in the moment, to buckle down and write, run, etc.  And that’s not so easy, especially when others are involved. Because, as humans, we are great justifiers: we can easily come up with six reasons why we can put away our book, our run, ‘just this once,’ to join a friend or family member in what will be a pleasurable activity, but that will require us to put our plans on hold. At this writing, I was involved in a writing project, having agreed to write 500 words a day, on any subject, just to focus on the task of getting my butt in a chair, and writing for a while to create a habit of doing so.  I decided this was a great idea because that discipline is not yet there in my life, yet I have a great desire to write. I actually started on January 3rd, not the 1st, as had been suggested—and to which, yes, I agreed—and I wrote, quite happily for two days, and then, on a late return from work on the 4th, there was an Anniversary party for a friend I’d said I’d attend, and did so, intending to put in time writing afterward. But, of course, after a glass or two (three?) of champagne, a quantity of smoked salmon, and the late hour, no writing got done, and I went to bed, intending to tackle the blank pages awaiting the next morning.  But on that glorious day off, I had a wonderful lunch with my husband, and a lazy, afternoon of calm rest, that, while much needed in my life these days, could have been put on hold for an half-hour or so, to get words on a page. So, here I sit, doing just that, BEFORE I head off to work, to give me that little writers’ high, and to know I am not cheating myself of my own dreams and desires. Hopefully, just the beginning…

It starts small.  And then grows. Suddenly, and exponentially, and like any dam bursting, you’re inundated, wondering which way is up, and if you can manage to keep your head above water, or even survive the quickness of the onslaught. Breathe, you tell yourself, wondering if you can, or if you’ve drawn your last, in the face of the deluge you’re now facing.  What’s happened? You, or I, have decided to ‘take action’ on a long-neglected project, feeling, and even knowing, that now we can devote the time necessary to making something happen, even if it needs to happen in ‘spare’ time, long before sunrise, or in the depths of the night when we, and only we, are awake, and attempting to make something happen.  The fitness program we’ve promised ourselves for how many New Year’s? The graduate work we always promised ourselves we would complete? Painting the spare room? Planning that vacation to…? The novel we have lurking in the still-dark corners of our mind? It doesn’t really matter. When we at-long-last decide to ACT, to take action, to make something happen, our mind slowly, then more quickly, becomes overwhelmed by things we need to do before we can begin.  Something simple, like deciding to sit down and write at least 500 words a day, which takes about 15 minutes, give or take, becomes, in our mind, ONLY POSSIBLE, when we have ‘set the stage,’ as it were, and completed any number of the following activities:  making sure the desk is clear and devoid of papers, mail, magazines, etc., that would make thinking about those 500 words.  Or all-of-a-sudden realizing that you never folded the sweaters you threw in the chair, and, after all, who could write something creative in such a pig-sty?  Did I check the dehumidifier in the basement? It could be going off right now, alerting us to the fact that it’s full, and I need to empty it. Or the mound of laundry needing an iron….  None of which matters. Because the only block to doing, in this case, your 500 words, is the fear that…. The fear that…it’s not going to be perfect. Or astonishingly good. Or that you’ll reveal something you thought you’d kept as a secret, but it seemed so perfect to describe what you, or your character, is feeling at the moment, and the world will now know something deeply personal about you, and you’re not sure how to process that….  Or whatever. Fill in the blanks from your own mind. Mine is chock-full of ‘scary stuff’ so it’s my task, when I sit down to write, to find a way to ignore the hot mess that is my desktop, the books overflowing from the shelves behind me, the unfolded sweaters in the chair, and simply sit down, and begin to tell the truth. My truth. And hopefully help someone else to see, that all of these truly insignificant things, that must be taken care of immediately, can not only wait, but can be ignored, not only for the moment, but for as long as you need to begin taking the next step toward the things that really, truly, matter to you.  And to change the way you, and hopefully others, go through life from that moment on….