One Tiny Thing
I love a good list, especially if it's in my planner. Nice paper, pretty ink. Tidy handwriting, little bullets. Its very existence feels like an accomplishment. And checking things off? Oh, yeah. It’s the sort of dopamine hit that casinos and snack food manufacturers dream about.
But there's a dark side to the rush. (I'm talking about the to-do list, not the dopamine dealers. At least in this post.) That seemingly satisfying yet never-ending spiral of coming up with more things to accomplish. The tendency to craft lists that blur the line of rational, healthy, or even physically possible.
It's not just me, right? Right?
RIGHT?
Ahem. Anyway.
I make the lists. I use the lists. I conquer discrete segments of the lists. But sometimes, I overwhelm myself into a lethargic lump of not even knowing where to start. Sound familiar?
Today was one of those days. A rather ambitious house project that started strong but will take weeks to finish. A looming book deadline. Curriculum and assessment and retention albatrosses at work. But instead of giving in to the malaise, I did one little thing. I reset my brain, gave myself an endorphin rush, and vastly improved my mood. Wanna know a secret? IT WASN'T ON THE LIST.
Hear me out.
I shut my office door, flipped my "meeting in progress" sign, and closed the blinds that advertise my goings-on to whatever students and faculty might pass by. Then I unrolled my yoga mat and let Jessamyn Stanley tell me what to do for twenty minutes. (If you don't let Jessamyn Stanley tell you what to do on a regular basis, I can't recommend it highly enough, for more reasons than I can articulate here.)
The point isn't that I did yoga. (Though, if you’re like me and don't make a habit of moving your body when you're busy and stressed, maybe it is.) It's about listening--to your body and your gut and your heart and any other part of you that isn't your critical, thinking self. It's about giving yourself the grace to rock the human being thing and not the human doing thing for a change. Even if you happen to be doing something.
The delightful irony is that, somewhere along the way, the to-do list becomes more doable. Focus returns and priorities get clearer. And since it isn't possible to do all the things--and a pretty terrible idea to try--you stop the scramble long enough to remember what's important.
