That was one of the guidelines I set for myself a little over a year ago during a marathon goal-setting session. I was tired of the constant pressure to catch up on the various projects in my life, of trying to desperately deal with each new crisis as it came up (and since I was in the tailspin of my freelance career, there were a lot of them).
I envisioned being able to laugh at new crises, at having the needed funds/materials/resources at my fingertips like juggling balls landing precisely when needed, not a moment sooner. I pictured myself laughing and smiling as goals were accomplished, relationships deepened, of life as a beautiful playground.
Hey, it was a goals session. You're supposed to have your head in the clouds.
Now a lot has changed. I'm working a "day job", still freelancing a bit on the side, and my old idea that I was overworked because I wanted more money has been blown away: I make more money now but am working more than ever on volunteer and activist projects that keep me still scrambling. Make that call! Arrange that rehearsal! Record that interview! Why isn't that vidcast up yet? The monkeys in my head are loud as ever.
Still, I think it's better. See, I've been learning new steps--the steady job has given me a bit more of stable stage to move on, and gradually I'm building a repetoire of techniques that are making things more graceful. For example, Chris Brogan's FatGuyGetsFit blog inspired me to try lifting free weights on a regular basis; now, three months and fifteen pounds later, I've added yoga to my early-morning exercise that is as natural to me as that Culver's ice cream used to be. Merlin turned me on to Moleskines and pens. Presentation Zen helped me give a kickass presentation with only three, count'em three, slides that said all I needed to in a graceful way. Most recently, a thread on Kathy Sierra's blog pointed me towards LifeBalance, which is keepig me more in line than anything else (even GTD) ever did.
All of this stuff, all the lifehacking fetishes, are ways to learn to move, just as learning to plie and extend and ronde that jambe was when I was in college. It's just moving through life, rather than a stage, and with the whole world as your partner. And just like in college, even on the new dance floor, my first few turns and attempts at choreography are going to be awkward, simplistic, and perhaps only have a glimmer of the beauty and grace I'm aiming for. That's ok; that's not important. What's important is that I keep moving, whether forward or back or up or down, building the life muscles and range of motion needed to really do that dance I envisioned.
This post is the first of several where I'm going to explore the idea of "life like dance", in the model of Kaprow's "life like art." My degree in dance had a focus on improv and Asian theatre forms, and the first version of this post (thanks, Chris, for the nudge) had so many ideas that I realized it would have to be a series.
Tomorrow: the purpose of in-between, or Turning Every Moment Into a Stock Photo.
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