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.

TIME NINJAS

A friend sent me a link to the site of the Time Ninjas, two British women who explain themselves and their name as follows on their "About" page:

We are the Time Ninjas. Why? Erm. Well, Time creeps up on us and all that, so we thought we could turn the whole stealth thing back onto Time and surprise it. Kind of. But mainly because we liked the sound of it.

I got a kick out of the concept, the name, and the honesty with which they admit the less impressive reason to choose the name, i.e. the sound of it. Not that I, DeCluttered Creative and Working Writer Wonders, can relate to that.

They're currently doing a project that asks folks to pledge a specific amount of time...to themselves. I'm pondering that wise thought.

In the meantime, I browsed their blog and found this opening line in one of their posts: I know that sometimes the absolute best way to use my time is to stop.

A concept with which I wholly and fully agree in principle, but have trouble putting into practice, as all who know me are aware. Hence time can be a ninja that whomps me, rather than me being a time ninja that sneaks up and masters it.

IF THE DALAI LAMA HAS TIME TO TINKER...

I recently watched a film about the Dalai Lama. (The film itself isn't terribly good, which is why I'm not linking to it here. At left is an unrelated image of him discussing the cosmos with the late Carl Sagan, courtesy of Cornell University's Chronicle Online, just because it seemed apt for this post.)

The film had lots of information about the Chinese takeover of Tibet and other dramatic issues. But what caught me most was its mention of this: the Dalai Lama reads extensively in books on physics, neurobiology, and other sciences, and likes to putter around taking things like watches and cars apart and then putting them back together.

In other words: This is a monk who spends several hours a day in spiritual practice. Who makes himself available to questioners, not always of any particular rank or importance, from around the world. Who consults and speaks and travels constantly. Who is a leading international advocate for peace. Who authors many books. Who leads the Tibetan people in exile. Among, I'm sure, many other things.

But.

He takes time from meeting government leaders and working for peace to have fun taking stuff apart, just because he enjoys it.

He takes time to read stuff that has no direct practical application to his job.

There's no evidence that he feels guilty doing these things. The images in the film display the same contentment his pictures almost always reflect. (You rarely if ever see the Dalai Lama look stressed. Indeed, an impish grin is the expression you see most often in images of him.)

Are you traveling around the planet counseling kings and presidents about peace?

I'm certainly not. When it comes to saving the planet or getting warring nations to make nice, ain't no one counting on me.

If someone as important and productive as the Dalai Lama can do it, why don't we give ourselves permission for just a little restorative guilt-free puttering now and then?

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.

ME AND MY TV: SOME INTROSPECTION

I originally planned this post as a followup to my tale of television decluttering I began in my June 24 post. I expected I would have to do little more than announce a decision and a plan. But that's not the way it's turned out. Instead, I'm coming up with many more questions than answers as I look honestly at the role TV plays in my life. It may be that I'm overcomplicating the issue. But it strikes me that if I don't look deeply at things like this, I'm not paring down in any truly soulful or creative way. Instead, I'm just making obvious, knee-jerk, superficial changes. With that in mind, I've decided to let myself explore a little before making a decision.

The first thing I've done is make a list of television shows I really look forward to—programming that truly nurtures me in some way, and that I genuinely look forward to seeing. Assuming that all of these shows were running at once (which isn't usually true) they would add up to just about 26 hours of viewing a week.

I have to admit I'm really ambivalent about that number. One voice inside me says, "What? You call yourself a creative person, but you want to spend the equivalent of an entire day a week sitting in front of the tube?" Another says, "Hey. Considering that there is actually some decent stuff on TV and that you live alone, have a painful foot problem, and need a break from the books you work with all day, that's not too bad at all."

The intensity of that first, judgmental voice is a real surprise to me. There's a lot of harshness in it, and a lot of black and white thinking. From that viewpoint, all television is really, even shamefully, bad. I'm not really sure where that judgment comes from. I don't even believe it, consciously at least. Yes, some TV—even some of the TV I like—is purely and frankly junk. But some of it just as clearly isn't, and even some of the junk strikes me as perfectly fine as light entertainment. It's also interesting that I don't judge others and their TV watching with any of this mean-spirited condemnation. I know a lot of highly productive people who like TV, and it would never occur to judge them.

Another surprise is this. I've actually been watching a lot—and I do mean a lot—more than those 22 hours. Some of this extra TV time comes because I turn the set on as a kind of default pastime when I'm tired and bored. Some of it comes when I'm doing something else during this kind of TV time: filing, checking email, washing dishes, or doing some other task I find boring if done on its own. That kind of TV isn't really watching at all. It's mostly listening, as though the television is actually a radio I'm playing as background noise.

I'm not sure where any of this leaves me. With the questions I mentioned earlier, I guess. And the need for still more musing.
How and when does television nurture me? Are there things I could be doing that would nurture me more, or ways I could use TV itself in a more deeply refreshing and energizing way?

How and when do I use television unconsciously—sloppily, if you will? What triggers me to turn on "American Justice" or "Designed to Sell" in the background? What would it be like, doing the dishes to silence, or even to music? Is there something I'm not liking in the quiet, or something I'm drawn to in the background noise?

I'm not yet sure of the answers. I am sure, though, that the issue here isn't actually TV per se, but rather how I relax and refresh myself—or fail to.

THE CLUTTER OF DECLUTTERING

My post of June 24 wrote about my decision to downgrade my cabletelevision service to the most minimal lineup of broadcast channels. A commendable plan, if I do say so myself. The reality of actually doing it, however, was hugely frustrating. I won't bore you with the details of my television saga. Suffice it to say that it involved two appointments set up but missed by Comcast, four conversations with phone representatives quoting wildly different terms and prices, a visit from an installer who had yet another version of the service lineup, and a final phone chat with a supervisor named Anna who dealt very patiently with my by-now deeply irritated self. In the end, it turned out that very little of the information on which I'd based my original decision was accurate, most notably the cost savings promised. (As it turns out, 12 channels cost exactly seven bucks less than 89.) I'm currently rethinking my options; it may be that my life and focus are better served leaving the TV as is and changing the way I use—or abuse—it instead. I'll post about that this weekend, once I have my mind made up and my plan (re)clarified.

In the meantime, two takeaways I can share from this experience. Nothing earth-shattering here, just some reminders that may be helpful as you, like me, move toward greater clarity and focus in your life.

First, that decluttering can take more time and energy that we expect. Getting the TV turned off, withdrawing from a committee that sucks time and energy from your life, getting friends used to the fact that you don't pick up the phone during your writing hours, rolling investments over from disparate accounts into a single one, finding someone reliable to whom you can delegate something: in the short run, paring down actually involves spending extra time and effort, especially when anyone else is involved in the process. I know that in theory, but forgot it totally this time around, ending up rushed and stressed after those conversations with Comcast ate up a huge chunk of my Saturday.

And second, that it's okay to change your mind. I always struggle with this one...and did so even more than usual on the television issue since I'd already posted on this blog about it. My first reaction was to worry that changing my mind and keeping the TV as is would make me seem indecisive, or uncommitted to my creative life, or shallow, or (insert your criticism of choice here—I came up with a juicy bunch of them). I know deep inside how unlikely it is that anyone will make these kinds of judgments, yet just posting this update occasioned some anxiety. Yet if this experience was someone else's, I'd support their right to adjust their plans without question.

As this reminds me, the most damaging kind of clutter isn't "out there," but in our own minds and hearts.