Seems like I've moved...again. Not physically, but in my mind. I now reside at the intersection of Today and Someday. When those two streets intersect, it's a collision, of sorts. It's the realization that most, if not all, your Somedays now reside under the heading of Today. That is, you have to make them happen today because Someday just got smaller in a big way.
I was always in my head a lot as a child. Whether raking leaves, mowing a lawn or walking home from school, I thought mostly of things that might come to be, someday. The wonderful meditation of expectation was usually what preoccupied me. It's not a bad thing. In fact, I recently read where people who have something to look forward to are usually more content than those who don't. I find real wisdom in that.
But there is another kind of expectation that isn't so useful. As a child, my elementary school teachers often told my parents (it was usually my mother) that I seemed to always be "ahead of myself." The implication was if I could just slow down a little, I'd make fewer mistakes and that my efforts would be even more rewarding.
As I think back on this, I realize that my old friend anxiety probably played a significant role in my consciousness. Impulsive...yes, that's me, certainly, but I have no recollection of rushing through things for any reason. Perhaps I operate on a higher cruising speed than many? Perhaps I'm comfortable moving quickly through reading material. No, that can't be it, because I pride myself in reading slower than many folks. I like to take my time and savor sentences and words and language.
There is no doubt about the wisdom of slowing down. As I age, I'm constantly aware of slowing myself down. I think, perhaps, learning to fly fish has helped in that department. Making a choice to take one's time is sometimes part of the beauty of that passion of mine. I recall one time on a beautiful creek in Northern California I was trying to cast a fly in a difficult spot. I wanted it to drift slowly at just the right angle near a rock wall on the other side of the stream. In order to make the cast, I had to avoid some overhanging branches. After a few tries, the inevitable happened and I was rewarded with the fly snagged on the upper leaves of the overhanging tree. On closer inspection, there was a nice snarl of tippet to untangle as well. (Tippet is the fine line at the end of the leader) I wanted to land that fly on just the right path more than I wanted to cut that line so I painstakingly unwound that snag, retrieved that fly, re-rigged my line and remained in position until I was rewarded with a beautiful rainbow trout who just happened to be hanging out in the pool below that rock wall. The real victory for me that day was not the fish, who, I might add, was released unharmed. The win was over the old me who wouldn't have taken the time to show it all down and re-set.
I've been mindful of that experience and I know we don't always get rewarded on the spot when we take the time to re-focus.
Now that Somedays are turning into Todays I try to enjoy the moment and let whatever I'm doing or experiencing unfurl before me as it will.
I was always in my head a lot as a child. Whether raking leaves, mowing a lawn or walking home from school, I thought mostly of things that might come to be, someday. The wonderful meditation of expectation was usually what preoccupied me. It's not a bad thing. In fact, I recently read where people who have something to look forward to are usually more content than those who don't. I find real wisdom in that.
But there is another kind of expectation that isn't so useful. As a child, my elementary school teachers often told my parents (it was usually my mother) that I seemed to always be "ahead of myself." The implication was if I could just slow down a little, I'd make fewer mistakes and that my efforts would be even more rewarding.
As I think back on this, I realize that my old friend anxiety probably played a significant role in my consciousness. Impulsive...yes, that's me, certainly, but I have no recollection of rushing through things for any reason. Perhaps I operate on a higher cruising speed than many? Perhaps I'm comfortable moving quickly through reading material. No, that can't be it, because I pride myself in reading slower than many folks. I like to take my time and savor sentences and words and language.
There is no doubt about the wisdom of slowing down. As I age, I'm constantly aware of slowing myself down. I think, perhaps, learning to fly fish has helped in that department. Making a choice to take one's time is sometimes part of the beauty of that passion of mine. I recall one time on a beautiful creek in Northern California I was trying to cast a fly in a difficult spot. I wanted it to drift slowly at just the right angle near a rock wall on the other side of the stream. In order to make the cast, I had to avoid some overhanging branches. After a few tries, the inevitable happened and I was rewarded with the fly snagged on the upper leaves of the overhanging tree. On closer inspection, there was a nice snarl of tippet to untangle as well. (Tippet is the fine line at the end of the leader) I wanted to land that fly on just the right path more than I wanted to cut that line so I painstakingly unwound that snag, retrieved that fly, re-rigged my line and remained in position until I was rewarded with a beautiful rainbow trout who just happened to be hanging out in the pool below that rock wall. The real victory for me that day was not the fish, who, I might add, was released unharmed. The win was over the old me who wouldn't have taken the time to show it all down and re-set.
I've been mindful of that experience and I know we don't always get rewarded on the spot when we take the time to re-focus.
Now that Somedays are turning into Todays I try to enjoy the moment and let whatever I'm doing or experiencing unfurl before me as it will.
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