I DIDN'T PLAN IN THE BEES

There's a very good reason why the last ten days have seemed like a constant and uncomfortable rush of deadlines, occasonally punctuated by some restless sleep and/or some dazed looking around the home office wondering how it got like that.

It wasn't that some client deadlines unexpectedly converged, though they did.

It wasn't even that I compounded the problem by some overscheduling of my own, though I did.

It was that I didn't plan on the bees.

The bees, that is, that decided to make a nest under my house the week before last. I didn't know they were there at first, those stealthy little buggers, but by last week the buzzing was so loud I figured that something was up. Walking around the house I discovered a sizeable swarm flying in and out of the space under the foundation of my house. Being already short on time and highly allergic to bee stings, I did not take to this new tenancy kindly.

The owner of a local pest control company came out to the house promptly, and just as promptly eradicated most of the creatures (which, happily enough, turned out to be mild-mannered honeybees rather than their gangsta yellowjacket relations).

But the time used up making calls, finding the right company, making the appointment, and adjusting the schedule around both bees and bee-killing, not to mention an uneasy night spent wondering about the question "can the bees get inside the house somehow?" was just enough to throw everything else out of kilter.

The moral of this post is obvious. You have to plan on the bees. For bees, you can substitute: computer meltdown, spouse meltdown, flat tire, sick parent, tantruming child, tantruming client, sudden attack of scurvy, unexpected abduction by aliens, or [insert your most recent out of the blue crisis here].

In other words, you have to plan on the thing that can't be planned for. And then allot it at least a modicum of time.

When I'm at my best, I do this. I assume that something or other will go kerplooey and I make sure there is space and time to adjust. When I'm not at my best, I schedule to within a hairsbreadth of my maximum possible resources of time and energy.

And the bees get me, every time.

WATCHING ME, WATCHING TV

As discussed in recent posts, I've been watching myself watching TV lately, trying to figure out how best to use (and not use) it in my life now. The more I did this, the clearer it became that the volume of TV I watch isn't truly the problem. Yes, I've been turning the tube on too much, and with too little conscious choice about what I was doing. But it feels as though its the unconsciousness, the lack of intention, the sloppiness you might call it, that's the real culprit in making my use of TV counterproductive, rather than the number of hours I watch or don't.

With that in mind, I've begun to create a new set of guidelines for myself. Here are the first four; a few more to come some day soon.


1. Get, and stay, out of masochistic judgmental minimal mode. As I mentioned in my last post, I've realized that my view of TV tends to be very harsh and moralistic, a stance that leads me to unhelpful and unrealistic plans and produces a knee-jerk belief that less must absolutely be better. (If you've ever tried to diet by suddenly cutting out every single food you perceive as bad, you'll know what I'm talking about. It's unnecessarily punitive, and it just doesn't work.)

2. Consciously choose what to watch, and to watch that with real enjoyment. Because I so often used to "watch" TV while doing something else, even the best programs weren't truly a source of relaxation or refreshment. My new commitment is to truly watch the majority of shows I turn on (see one exception below) with the quiet and focus I would give to a movie in a movie theater. When I choose to watch a program, I'm actually turning everything else off, sitting down in one place, bringing a beverage or snack, and being really present. The change in feeling this produced was strong and immediate. I actually feel relaxed while doing it, rather than just pretending to "chill."

3. Pay attention to just how well that enjoyment works, or doesn't. Sometimes a program that sounds like it's worth real time and focus is, but sometimes it isn't. Two PBS programs I tuned into last week showed the difference. Ken Burns' Baseball documentary felt utterly absorbing to me: visually rich, historically fascinating, and emotionally moving. Masterpiece Theater's Mystery last Sunday was not. I chose it because I like both Agatha Christie and David Suchet, who plays her detective Hercule Poirot in the series. But the program, while visually stylish, didn't actually grab me on any imaginative, emotional or intellectual level. Had I not been fully focused on it, I'm not sure I would have noticed. But this time I did—and, in consequence, gladly turned off the tube and picked up a book.

4. Distinguish between my different uses of the TV. Looking more closely at my television usage, I realized that an hour or so of the TV I "watch" some days isn't really used as TV at all; it's my personal version of listening to national and international news on radio, and a reasonably good and interesting source of information at that. Rather than feeling guilty about it, I've decided to embrace it—and go right ahead with doing the dishes, sweeping the kitchen, unpacking the groceries or whatever while I listen. I guess another way to say this is that in contrast to guideline 2, some TV is perfectly fine as a multitasking tool.

THE STILL AND SOULFUL CENTER

In my recent STUFF AND SCHEDULES post I wrote that decluttering our stuff doesn’t do much good for our creativity unless we also declutter our schedules.

I recently found an image that captures (at least for me) the difference between the feeling of a cluttered schedule, and the feeling of a purposeful one.

It comes from the late Henri Nouwen, a priest, professor, and wonderful writer. Nouwen's work spoke (among many other things) of the wounded healer, the person who can lead and nurture others precisely because he or she is human and flawed.

About time and our use of it, he wrote "being busy is like being on the outside of the wheel—you go up and down and around all the time. If you are centered, you are in the hub of the wheel. It takes much less energy.”

Like so many Americans, I find myself on the outside of the wheel quite a bit. Lots of movement; sometimes, but definitely not always, lots of impact; and lots of tiredness in the aftermath.

Once every day or even just once a week, stop to ask yourself if you’ve just bit whirling frantically at the rim of the wheel, or quiet—yet still moving forward at exactly the same speed—at the hub.

OF STUFF AND SCHEDULES

Decluttering our stuff doesn’t do much good for our creativity unless we also declutter our schedule.

To put the same thing a different way, it doesn’t matter if we have space for our creativity if we don’t have time for it as well.

Time and schedule clutter are my own personal demons. Though I own a lot of various kinds of stuff, my home feels spacious and orderly. But if your a "pack rat," don't envy me. It’s my schedule that’s always a mess. I naturally pile stuff on in that department. Obligations to others and expectations of myself…a double edged sword that cuts creative work right out of my life.

So here's an interesting question: do you hoard stuff, or stuff your schedule?