06/01: New Thoughts for a New Year
Happy Reflection Time! If you’re an intuitive introverted optimist like me, you probably relish stepping over into a New Year. It’s the time after the overstimulating holidays, after the parties and gatherings, when we get to stay in, chill out and cuddle up—and think. Here’s some of what’s been cooking in my internal loft:
· “Taking care of things.” We use this expression frequently, but don’t often pause to consider what we’re saying: taking care. I have a history of neglecting self-care when it’s boring or inconvenient – ordering new glasses, fixing broken stuff, finding the right product for my hypersensitive skin. Here’s an example: I spent hours last night hunting for a toothpaste formula without fluoride, which gives me a rash on my chin (look it up – it’s pretty common!). There are about a million different kinds of toothpaste formulas—sensitive, whitening, super-platinum glow with diamond sparkles—but I found NOTHING without fluoride, at least for adults. I finally purchased some “training toothpaste” for toddlers in Fruit Splash. I ultimately did discover an adult formula without fluoride, and I had used it successfully in the past without realizing why: Tom’s of Maine “natural antiplaque tarter control plus whitening” toothpaste, the peppermint one. Thank you, Tom.
Anyway, my hunt for this toothpaste is the very kind of thing most of us avoid doing because it’s a huge hassle. And when we do invest time in “taking care of things,” we often think about all of the other more important things we could be doing. This leads to another theme in my head:
· Taking or Giving? If you’re on my subscriber list (if you’re not, sign up at wakingdesire.com), you received a blessing I sent, taken from a letter by Fra Giovanni. The essence of his message: take heaven, take peace, take joy. In this context, “take” refers to “taking in” or “allowing.” I have been reading the words of another wise monk: Brother David Steindl-Rast, whose article, “Learning to Die” is a masterpiece. You can read it yourself at his site: gratefulness.org. Bro David notes the language we use regarding time: we take, spend, borrow and even kill time, but we rarely talk about giving time.
So, I’d like to think of my toothpaste expedition as a generous gift to me, a gift in the service of care and love. I gave time to something that needed time. I now deliberately substitute “giving” for “taking” when I think about time. Try it – it feels SO much better.
· The Ultimate Care Challenge. After about a year of dabbling in David Allen’s book Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity, I started 2008 with the conviction to employ his ideas. WOW. This guy knows what he’s talking about. This isn’t your typical time-management program with priorities and goals and schedules. For me, this is a book about “taking care.” It’s not easy, but it’s also not oppressive. The basic idea is to put together all your piles and cluttered ideas and thoughts in your head and—clear two whole days for just this—go through every piece of paper, every idea and decide what the “next action” is. The next action may be to find a phone number or to ask somebody a question. The trick—and this is really tough—is to NOT PUT THE PAPER BACK IN THE BOX, to not skip over to something more interesting. WOW. I have been doing this (you’d need to read Allen’s book for the whole system) and, I tell you, taking care of those pain-in-the-ass items feels so liberating—and so loving.
As I reflect, it was the pain-in-the-ass responsibilities that helped me bond with my babies: the late night vigils, the diapering, clipping tiny fingernails. Giving is evidence of love, and giving time to your own care helps you feel loved and worthy. Resolve to give yourself the pain-in-the-ass care, not just the fun kinds of care like movies and popcorn (though these are important, too). Barrel through the resistance, your impulse to put it off. Feel the love.
Take—rather, give—care,
Laurie
· “Taking care of things.” We use this expression frequently, but don’t often pause to consider what we’re saying: taking care. I have a history of neglecting self-care when it’s boring or inconvenient – ordering new glasses, fixing broken stuff, finding the right product for my hypersensitive skin. Here’s an example: I spent hours last night hunting for a toothpaste formula without fluoride, which gives me a rash on my chin (look it up – it’s pretty common!). There are about a million different kinds of toothpaste formulas—sensitive, whitening, super-platinum glow with diamond sparkles—but I found NOTHING without fluoride, at least for adults. I finally purchased some “training toothpaste” for toddlers in Fruit Splash. I ultimately did discover an adult formula without fluoride, and I had used it successfully in the past without realizing why: Tom’s of Maine “natural antiplaque tarter control plus whitening” toothpaste, the peppermint one. Thank you, Tom.
Anyway, my hunt for this toothpaste is the very kind of thing most of us avoid doing because it’s a huge hassle. And when we do invest time in “taking care of things,” we often think about all of the other more important things we could be doing. This leads to another theme in my head:
· Taking or Giving? If you’re on my subscriber list (if you’re not, sign up at wakingdesire.com), you received a blessing I sent, taken from a letter by Fra Giovanni. The essence of his message: take heaven, take peace, take joy. In this context, “take” refers to “taking in” or “allowing.” I have been reading the words of another wise monk: Brother David Steindl-Rast, whose article, “Learning to Die” is a masterpiece. You can read it yourself at his site: gratefulness.org. Bro David notes the language we use regarding time: we take, spend, borrow and even kill time, but we rarely talk about giving time.
So, I’d like to think of my toothpaste expedition as a generous gift to me, a gift in the service of care and love. I gave time to something that needed time. I now deliberately substitute “giving” for “taking” when I think about time. Try it – it feels SO much better.
· The Ultimate Care Challenge. After about a year of dabbling in David Allen’s book Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity, I started 2008 with the conviction to employ his ideas. WOW. This guy knows what he’s talking about. This isn’t your typical time-management program with priorities and goals and schedules. For me, this is a book about “taking care.” It’s not easy, but it’s also not oppressive. The basic idea is to put together all your piles and cluttered ideas and thoughts in your head and—clear two whole days for just this—go through every piece of paper, every idea and decide what the “next action” is. The next action may be to find a phone number or to ask somebody a question. The trick—and this is really tough—is to NOT PUT THE PAPER BACK IN THE BOX, to not skip over to something more interesting. WOW. I have been doing this (you’d need to read Allen’s book for the whole system) and, I tell you, taking care of those pain-in-the-ass items feels so liberating—and so loving.
As I reflect, it was the pain-in-the-ass responsibilities that helped me bond with my babies: the late night vigils, the diapering, clipping tiny fingernails. Giving is evidence of love, and giving time to your own care helps you feel loved and worthy. Resolve to give yourself the pain-in-the-ass care, not just the fun kinds of care like movies and popcorn (though these are important, too). Barrel through the resistance, your impulse to put it off. Feel the love.
Take—rather, give—care,
Laurie
