I have always made lists. When I came home the first time from college my mother showed me lists I had made in 3rd grade. She must have kept them to document my oddness from an early age. I cannot deny it. I make ridiculous, impossible, demanding, romantic lists of what I will do this week, this season, today, in the house, in the yard, creatively. The lists, pardon the expression, go on and on.
I’ve tried making shorter lists. I tried prioritizing the items. Nothing has worked to make me accomplish all the things on my list.
My dear friend, Pat, offered another way. “I ask myself each morning, ‘what do I want to do?’ Then I do that.”
Her system is easier for sure. But it means I have to walk through each day making in the moment choices. That’s not so bad but it carries repercussions.
I find I fail to meet my expectations and those I have imposed on others. I find I get lost in the simple process of doing the dishes and listening to harp music. I've discovered that each thing I choose unseats another choice I could have made.
I still make lists, lengthy lists. Then I lay down the pad and go do what calls to me first. I am abandoning product and the ego satisfaction it can offer, to just do what I want. I don’t find it natural - I have worn a halter and bridle to judgement all my life - but I do find it easy.
I’ll let you know how it works out.