On goals and gripes
oh, it's the first week of January for sure
Lately, we’re more aware of the speed of time. It’s already 10am and there’s still a dog to walk and a long list of items on the weekend to-do list. When did we lose the ability to relax?
It’s getting late on Saturday morning and I’m hanging out on the couch looking at the gray sky through the back slider and listening to a jazz CD. I’ve lit the beeswax candle in the hurricane lamp on the table.
My spouse Janyce has been out doing errands this morning and now bursts through the side door with her hands full, setting an array of paper cups on the kitchen island. We forgot our grinder back at the house when we were packing up the car last night.
“I bought whole grain English muffins, too,” she says, handing me a large ceramic mug. It smells of hazelnut. “I hate it when they use the flavored carafe for morning coffee.” She grabs her book and sits on the opposite end of the couch. Our dog notices the small space in between us and hops up, curling her body to fit and resting her snout on my bare ankles. I think Swirls loves this weekend house even more than we do. She knows an empty stretch of sandy beach is waiting.
I’m writing, and Janyce is reading a new book on mindfulness I got her for Christmas. But we both keep stopping to volley frenetic conversation back and forth seemingly in time to Chet Baker’s trumpet trills. We’ve had too much coffee. But it’s not only that. Lately, we’re more aware of the speed of time. It’s already 10am and there’s still a dog to walk and a long list of items on the weekend to-do list. When did we lose the ability to relax? I’ve been trying all morning. But relaxing seems to be more elusive every year. There is less time in the week to get it all done.
“You want to stop at Home Depot to order the owner’s cabinet for downstairs?” I say.
“Sure,” she says. “But let’s get the dog out first.”
Last night we listened to Mel’s latest podcast on the rainy car ride and we learned a few new things— like how it’s more effective to set a goal within a high/low range.
“I want to read more books this year,” I said, after turning the volume down on the radio. “So, let me try this, I’m going to read between seven and 12 books by January 2024.”
“I’m going to meditate for five to ten minutes three to five times a week,” said Janyce.
“For how long a duration though?” I said. “I think that’s part of it. You have to get very specific.”
Swirly shifts her her position and stretches her legs out straight, jabbing me in the side. The sun is now peeking through the cloud cover and I can see the gloom of the morning starting to lift.
“Should we take her out now?” I say.
“Wait, I want to read you something,” says Janyce.
In “Still Life, The Myths and Magic of Mindful Living,” author Rebecca Pacheco says: “today we are confronted with more information in a single week than someone one hundred years ago processed in his/her/their lifetime. Meanwhile the human brain ( … ) has not been upgraded in that time.”
“That’s it exactly,” I say. “It’s too much.”
By Wednesday, I was already griping about the re-entry into the workweek. The cold rain every day wasn’t helping, neither was all the goal-setting pressure. But I think it was mostly the barrage of all the information again: emails, text messages, social messages, the slack channels, my unread newsletters, the bills I put off paying during the holidays.
In place of setting resolutions and goals, Suleika Jaouad suggests journaling your way into the year. What in the last year are you proud of? What did this year leave you yearning for? What’s causing you anxiety?
“I’ll tell you what’s causing anxiety,” says Janyce. “It’s the damn rifle range down the road.”
I can faintly hear the low popping sounds from the gun club. Our dog is distressed now and up in my lap again, chewing nervously at my chin. Janyce has since put her book aside and is on her laptop planning the dog’s grooming date on the calendar.
“Do you want to stay home next weekend so we can bring her on a Saturday?” she says.
“No.” I say. “I want to be here every weekend this month if we can manage it. We’re supposed to be relaxing.”
“You’re absolutely right,” she says. “We’ll just have to have a stinky dog a little longer.”
“Walkies? You ready Swirls?”