Gravitas...
It was still dark when I rose this morning. Normally I would snooze deliberately into the yellow wash of morning, but my cats seemed intent on tearing up the bedroom. I decided to strike fear (or more likely, curiosity) into their hearts by getting up and dressing. Almost any activity by a human takes their attention away from whatever catechisms they were pursuing. This morning is cold. North Country cold. Thermostat says 67; feels like 47. I guess that's why I have migrated upstairs to do a blog instead of putzing at my kitchen table, which sits partially inside the Eastward facing bay window. This time of year, it sees the least amount sun as any of my houseparts. Even the coffee tries to climb back up through the filter, but fortunately, gravity wins.
This is the time of year, the week between Christmas and the start of the new year, in which I tend to pull a phoenix routine. I close the books, sort the clothes, book what needs booking and generally, try to stay in sorts. It's an introspective time, more than most I suppose. I have a list of goals that I produce this time of year, every year, for the coming year. Each year I find that I failed to hit most of them, generally excepting the physical and financial goals. Those I tend to nail, which really only goes to indicate that I am largely a Scrooge who has been blessed with good genetics. Most other areas of my life in which I could advance or refine (spiritual, relational, careerial), those tend to just tread the water in my wake. I am beginning to question whether I need to put forth more effort where it counts, or if my goals simply do not reflect who I really want to be. When I consider my aims, I feel as though I am stuck at the center of a dense swarm of intentions, spread just far enough out about me that I can only reach a few of them over the course of a dozen months. Perhaps my hope is that by just breathing them into existence, they will eventually all cosmically collide at the center with me, rendering me one complete system. There are theories to explain why this would occur, not only their joining me, but my moving towards them. However, the same theories can be used to explain why my goals would just continue to orbit me forever, deviating negligibly over whatever the full time I possess will be. In this case, again, and year after year it seems, gravity wins.
I think one part of the challenge of coming up with goals is that you are trying to predict that your ideas, circumstances and opportunities will not drastically change over the year. This almost always happens. Tastes change. Interests wane. I know that mine do. I admire single-minded, focused people. People who have a 'career' and like it. People who make a name for themselves in a specific regard. I don't suppose we can all be that way (I didn't choose the name for this blog arbitrarily), but for some reason, I think such a life could be more rewarding. My wife is single-minded. She is a performer, and her best efforts go towards this with outstanding results. This year, my goals (as they are still forming) would seem to indicate that I am a writer. I intend to both manage a daily blog as well as write a children's book. While the former requires a comfortable amount of heavy ideation, the latter would seem to be negatively cumbered by it. Basically, I need to be prepared mentally to carry Marley's chains and Armstrong's space suit. I'll admit, this kind of dexterity sounds appealing to me. As usual, I will probably go after it like gangbusters. My fear is, come March, I will forget about these projects and suddenly want to be a rock star again. Time will tell.
In the end, I think the best thing is to keep it light. Given the theories I've by now exhausted in this piece, light thoughts and heavy thoughts fall to my core at the same rate, making neither more productive or efficient than the other. I'm a selfish beast, and the more fun and entertaining I am able to make something, the more likely I am to continue it. The course of action (at this point) seems clear--don the persona non gravis and try to make some words dance...
This is the time of year, the week between Christmas and the start of the new year, in which I tend to pull a phoenix routine. I close the books, sort the clothes, book what needs booking and generally, try to stay in sorts. It's an introspective time, more than most I suppose. I have a list of goals that I produce this time of year, every year, for the coming year. Each year I find that I failed to hit most of them, generally excepting the physical and financial goals. Those I tend to nail, which really only goes to indicate that I am largely a Scrooge who has been blessed with good genetics. Most other areas of my life in which I could advance or refine (spiritual, relational, careerial), those tend to just tread the water in my wake. I am beginning to question whether I need to put forth more effort where it counts, or if my goals simply do not reflect who I really want to be. When I consider my aims, I feel as though I am stuck at the center of a dense swarm of intentions, spread just far enough out about me that I can only reach a few of them over the course of a dozen months. Perhaps my hope is that by just breathing them into existence, they will eventually all cosmically collide at the center with me, rendering me one complete system. There are theories to explain why this would occur, not only their joining me, but my moving towards them. However, the same theories can be used to explain why my goals would just continue to orbit me forever, deviating negligibly over whatever the full time I possess will be. In this case, again, and year after year it seems, gravity wins.
I think one part of the challenge of coming up with goals is that you are trying to predict that your ideas, circumstances and opportunities will not drastically change over the year. This almost always happens. Tastes change. Interests wane. I know that mine do. I admire single-minded, focused people. People who have a 'career' and like it. People who make a name for themselves in a specific regard. I don't suppose we can all be that way (I didn't choose the name for this blog arbitrarily), but for some reason, I think such a life could be more rewarding. My wife is single-minded. She is a performer, and her best efforts go towards this with outstanding results. This year, my goals (as they are still forming) would seem to indicate that I am a writer. I intend to both manage a daily blog as well as write a children's book. While the former requires a comfortable amount of heavy ideation, the latter would seem to be negatively cumbered by it. Basically, I need to be prepared mentally to carry Marley's chains and Armstrong's space suit. I'll admit, this kind of dexterity sounds appealing to me. As usual, I will probably go after it like gangbusters. My fear is, come March, I will forget about these projects and suddenly want to be a rock star again. Time will tell.
In the end, I think the best thing is to keep it light. Given the theories I've by now exhausted in this piece, light thoughts and heavy thoughts fall to my core at the same rate, making neither more productive or efficient than the other. I'm a selfish beast, and the more fun and entertaining I am able to make something, the more likely I am to continue it. The course of action (at this point) seems clear--don the persona non gravis and try to make some words dance...
posted by Master of None at 7:13 AM
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