Making Time Stand Still

“It is not enough to be industrious; so are the ants. What are you industrious about?”—Henry David Thoreau

Recently I was looking at my calendar, trying to make several different events happen in a very short period of time. After wrestling with the complex schedules of a bunch of different people, it all worked out, but honestly, it was like herding cats on Red Bull. Why are we all so busy? It was like a giant cluster of Venn diagrams of overlapping commitments, sports games, jobs, and activities. 

Our family is not one that over-schedules. My children don’t do five varsity sports, four school clubs, three part-time jobs, two service projects, and a partridge in a…well you get the idea. The grown boys have jobs, as do my daughter and I, and she has high school and one sport per season. We are not celebrities or sought-after athletes, but wrangling everyone’s schedule sometimes makes it seem that way.

My general feeling has always been that much of what is going on when we say we are “so busy” is really not all that. If something life-altering were to come up in amongst the appointments, homework, games, and responsibilities, we’d make it happen. The events that don’t matter would fall away and what must be done, would get done. It always does, right? It’s just so frustrating in the middle of it when all you want is to know where you have to be and when you have to be there.

 As always, my inability to be organized, physically and mentally, is usually to blame, but I’m beginning to think it’s more than that. Yes, there are times when I cannot find my arse in the bathtub, much less fight my way out of a scheduling conflict, but one of these days, it’s just going to hit critical mass. The need to simplify will take over and the next thing you know I will head for a cabin in the woods with a book, a bag of Fritos and my Snoopy blanket, completely cutting myself off from technology, errands, and my Day Planner. Ok, wait a second; that isn’t ever going to happen. I’d be hightailing it home by supper, twitching from iPhone withdrawal and a near-fatal case of FOMO. Still, sometimes it’s tempting to just walk away from everything we “have” to do.

I’ve seen a quote, from Mother Theresa, about not using time as an excuse. We should not say “I don’t have time” because every person has the same amount of time. We all get 24 hours a day. We have to sleep, most of us have to work and care for our families, but along with all of that, how much time do we all waste each day? Whether it’s staring at our phones, surfing the Internet to find out if penguins have knees (they do, you just can’t see them under the feathers) or binge-watching the latest sci-fi series on Netflix, the time is there if we want to do the work to find it. It’s not easy, not even a little bit, and to those who always look like they have everything completely pulled together and never miss an appointment or muck up a deadline, you have my utmost respect and admiration. Maybe it’s a perception issue? Perhaps we are all struggling to tame our calendars, organize time with family and friends and slow things down a little? What if it’s just that some people make it look easier and we are all just madly scrambling around crossing off dates and loading up to-do lists?

I'm going to try not to concentrate on how each day begins or ends, regarding time and tasks.  I won't think about how many hours or minutes I have left to get everything done. It's like seeing a movie in a big screen theater versus a small television set. I don't want to miss any part of it; I want the full width of whatever I do. Constantly checking my calendar, my children’s schedules, work deadlines, and appointments takes away from the meaningful experiences I want to have. Running on time is for trains, planes, and marathoners. Being present in the moments that matter is more important.

Let Them Eat Cake!

"Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be."

---Robert Browning

It's birthday season, at least in my world. If you do the math, a lot of friends and family of mine had parents who knew how to make the most of cold January nights and Valentine’s Day. From the end of September to mid-November I am continually sending a card, wishing someone a happy birthday or having cake.

I think I counted about a dozen or so birthdays in a six-week period and there are likely some I have forgotten. There is way too much cake happening right at my other favorite time of year, pumpkin whoopee pie season. Actually, pumpkin whoopie pies might be just at my house as well, since a good friend makes them. No, I won't tell you who; they're mine, all mine!

While most holidays other than Christmas or Thanksgiving are not that big a deal for me, I love me some birthdays. It's one day that is just yours. Well, unless you're a twin or triplet etc. You might have to share your day then, but there's at least one moment in every birthday that is exclusively yours. It's my belief that birthdays should be sacred. They should be about the person who's just completed another year. In our house, the birthday person gets to pick what's for dinner. No matter what, they get to decide and no one else's preferences matter. If the choice is pizza, the birthday honoree picks the place and the toppings, and everyone else can go hungry. Or eat cake. Not a bad deal, really.

There is a reason they put names on birthday cakes. It's to single out someone who, even just for five minutes, gets to be a rock star with a room full of adoring fans. In the UK they sing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" because I guess women don't have birthdays over there? And that song doesn't even mention a name; they could be talking about any fellow. The song "Happy Birthday To You," however, is customizable, even if your name is Vladimir or Millicent. It's also free to sing now, as a U.S. Federal court held that the song is officially out of the corporate clutches of Warner Brothers and safely in the public domain. 

I wonder if the date of that decision will become the birthday of the birthday song?  Many people don't like the attention focused on them, especially if it's sung by the underwhelmed wait staff at a restaurant, all of whom probably have to sing it to strangers several times a day, and yet, it's still something that brings out the little kid in all of us. Don't tell me you never say, "cha cha cha" between verses, or add lyrics, we've all done it.

Now that so much happens in the world of social media, birthdays have even become a way to pursue a charitable goal. You can now donate your birthday to the cause of your choice. Essentially, these posts say, "Please give to XYZ organization in honor of my birthday."  Facebook is filled with these posts, and while I'm all in for close friends and family, I find that I laugh a little at some of them. Someone who is the daughter of a neighbor of my friend's aunt Edna, who I met at a cookout once, for five minutes, wants donations to save the spotted owls of Oregon? Um, well, that's very sweet of her, but it's not like everyone on Facebook was going to get her a gift. This is the time of year when my feed gets winnowed out a little, because if I don't know someone well enough to celebrate their day by saving the symbol of Hooter's, where hardworking staff probably have to sing Happy Birthday to multiple drooling men every day, then why am I sharing pictures of my kids with them?

Birthdays should still matter, however, especially to those close to us. I'm going to a party for a family member this week, that isn't a party. Nope, the birthday boy doesn't like parties, so it's dinner, with friends and family, precisely fifty odd years (to the day) he was born. That is NOT a birthday, you hear me? There better be cake because I'm all out of whoopie pies. Also, on a personal note, Happy Birthday, Devin Mary Kim. However did you get to be so grown up and beautiful? Also, FYI to whomever might want to know, November 6th isn't just Election Day…hint hint.

Ya Gotta Believe

Going on right now in politics is a tug of war over who we should believe. A powder keg of accusations, anger, and vitriol that, I guarantee, will accomplish almost nothing. I’m not touching that issue. It’s so far above my abilities and pay grade that I will leave it to others whose job it is to sort out. The evidence suggests it’s beyond them too, but they signed up for it, so they can duke it out. 

He said, she said and who do you believe seem to be the questions swirling around. Well, we can all answer that for ourselves, as we should. With thoughtful consideration, respect and hey, being a little nicer to each other while we’re at it. What is more important, is, do we believe in ourselves? Do we have the courage of our convictions, whatever they may be, or do we shrink back, like Eyore in Winnie the Pooh? Do we sit back and say, “Oh, no, I could never do that, not me, oh no, I am nowhere near good enough.” Says who? Who convinces us that we shouldn’t reach out and make a big leap at something? How does it happen that we become our own worst critics? This week, it became clear to me that I needed to change course in a few areas. When something doesn’t work, you fix it, or if it’s beyond repair, you ditch it.

Let’s think about careers. Eating, wearing clothes and having a home are all habits I’d like to continue, so I work. I’m certainly not alone in that. I’m also not alone in wanting to do well in whatever job I have, because why bother if you’re not going to do your best? It’s not a brag to say that I know how to write, I know how to gather facts, cite sources, and make complex concepts a little more engaging. As anyone would, I take pride in that. On the flip side, I can’t add numbers higher than 21, I can’t sing or dance, and I’m a miserable failure at cribbage, so it all balances out. Recently though, someone told me that I screwed up on something and I was to blame for something pretty important going wrong. When someone says to you that you stink at the very thing you take the most pride in, it’s a wicked kick in the head. We’ve all been there, right? Isn’t it awful?

The reason why it’s so agonizing is that losing a solid belief in yourself is like losing an eye. Not quite as painful and bloody, and you won’t scare the dog, but it will affect how you see every situation. Nothing will be clear because that core belief, in your abilities, your efforts and your choices, is the lens through which we perceive everyone and everything else around us. If it’s cracked? Fuggettaboutit, you’re going to bump into things and fall down a lot.

For a few days, I believed I was a screw-up. Hook, line, and nasty email, I 100% bought it. Then a whole lot of events fell into place. People acted in ways I never saw coming. Some background came to the forefront and made it all so much more apparent. Yes, we need that core belief in ourselves, but sometimes it gets forgotten because it’s intangible while someone screeching at you in real time, is easily heard and seen. At the end of one very hectic day, everything had finally righted itself and guess what? I won. Won, in the sense that I got my feet back under me, pivoted on my kicking red heels and walked on, confident again in what I have done, what I know I can do, and what I will continue to do.

There is no dress size, no amount of money, no shiny new car or toy that will ever feel as good as genuinely knowing your worth and being right about who you are. It’s petty, but if I could have gotten away with it, someone last week would have gotten a big, fat “Neener, neener” from me. I resisted the urge, but barely. It remains to be seen how it will all shake out, but that’s the fun part, right? Once you know your own strength, you’re unstoppable.

The political arena will continue to be a hotbed of controversy and conflict. Hasn’t it always been? We all have opinions on who should be believed, but it’s probably a better idea to have a firm grasp on what we believe about ourselves before we look at anyone else.