Mother Nature forges ahead with her own agenda. She doesn’t wait for everything to be perfect before she begins. To herald the season’s metamorphosis, she sends spring flowers. Late snowstorms dump two feet of the white fluffy stuff way past the day the calendar says it should snow. Thunderstorms, torrential downpours, flash flooding, and tornados don’t keep her from coaxing crocus, tulips, lily of the valley, and blood-red peony stalks above ground.
They brave inclement weather and hostile conditions. They may hope for gentle breezes, sunny skies, and tender rain, but life gives them no guarantees. If they have any hope of growing, blooming, and reaching their full potential, they must take risks. Faced with uncertainty, they begin anyway.
Despite our best planning, brilliant juggling, inspired delegation skills, and a commitment to finish projects, shit happens. Life delivers unexpected challenges, not enough hours in the day, and a boss who feigns understanding but only cares about results. Hectic is an understatement. Coworkers pack your inbox with emergencies, thoughtlessly making them your problem (because you are the expert at finding solutions). When you think it can’t get any worse, a truckload of lemons arrives on your doorstep. This overworked, fresh-out-of-ideas introvert is not amused.
TGIF. I need a lovely meal, preferably one I don’t have to cook, but I dread looking at the same tired takeout menus and waiting for an hour or more for the privilege of microwaving cold food. The best covid inspired delivery service is from my local liquor store. I am glad they have seen the folly of half inebriated people making the perilous journey for necessary supplies. Besides, my anxiety over the bumper crop of lemons diminishes in direct proportion to my alcohol consumption. Hey? Where is my friend with the alcohol? There is nothing better than a quiet drink savored after surviving a hellish week before succumbing to absolute exhaustion.
I am excited for the impending weekend, the promised opportunity of sleeping late, avoiding work-related obligations for two entire days, and the room I need to relax and recover. When I can breathe, I plan to organize and schedule next week. My goal is to get back on track. Is anyone need a few lemons?
I love starting vegetables for my summer garden from those cute seed packets. Every spring, I purchase envelopes with pretty pictures, consult the Farmer’s Almanac for the last expected hard frost, calculate germination times, and coordinated planting dates with my schedule. This year, I am reworking my landscaping, so, I opted to limit my spring plantings to tomatoes and basil. I have major changes planned in the yard, and I needed to concede to a lack of time and space for a more ambitious undertaking.
The Farmer’s Almanac called for sowing both tomato and basil seeds for indoor germination anytime between March 24th and April 7th in my zone. True to my nature, I pushed the window and delayed setting up my table until the last possible day. Tomatoes typically germinate in 5 to 10 days and basil in 5 to 7 days. But I’m not patient. As soon as I plopped the little darlings into their peat pots, I was looking for signs of life.
So many things can go wrong at this stage. Perhaps the seeds are too old, the soil too wet or too dry, or maybe the temperature dips below optimum levels. I checked my babies almost every hour. Black dirt stared back at me. Turning the tray from side to side, I searched for a hint of green before my logical side kicked in to remind me of the 5-day minimum. I marked my calendar, crossed out each day, and waited. I hate waiting, so I tried to occupy my mind and forced myself to stop watching the clock. Days 5, 6, and 7 passed with no encouraging sightings, and I feared I had overlooked some critical variable.
Yesterday, I looked at them once more before I admitted defeat, chucked the failures, and started over. With a heavy sigh, I lifted the cover, expecting to find sad brown mud. Instead, I discovered tiny flecks of green sprinkled across the dark, moist surface. I think I squealed and giggled, and I might have clapped my hands. Flipping on the grow light, I spoke to my new plants. They say they thrive when they know they are loved.
People who use their car’s GPS for a trip to the grocery store amuse me. The directions couldn’t be easier or more direct—turn right as you exit the subdivision, turn left at the fourth stoplight, and make a right into the parking lot. When I question the logic behind their choice, the typical response is, “Oh, I just what to see where I am going.” I suppose it makes sense.
Yet when I ask them about their plans for the week, next month, or a year from now, I invariably receive a deer-in-the-headlights stare. Answers for the next week illicit expected activities like work, errands, and upcoming appointments. Extend the period thirty days, and you get shoulder shrugs or belatedly remembered mentions of an impending birthday, graduation, or wedding. I assure if you continue the line of questioning and inquire about next year, they will call you a weirdo.
Maybe I am odd. While others associate higher risks in short-term activities, I place my egg in the long-term planning basket. I find looking forward lets me be proactive rather than reactive. I don’t have a crystal ball, but it doesn’t take a fortune teller to predict you will never become a doctor if you are not studying biology, chemistry, or enrolled in Pre-Med classes. Imagining what life might look like in five or ten years gives me direction. Today’s dreams form the foundation of my goals.
Planning where I want to go forces me to assess my current position, establish a realistic roadmap, and set tactics for moving towards my future reality. I can anticipate pitfalls, roadblocks, and hurdles before they happen and devise strategies to avoid or minimize their impact on my progress. I know it works because once upon a time I dreamed of living the life I have now.
Once upon a time, I worked for a boss who held one core workplace belief. He maintained that a clean desk was the sign of a productive worker. He often walked around the office after hours, leaving notes for people instructing them to clean up their act. Thankfully, I never received his scathing reminder. The office manager gave me a helpful heads-up. I’m not a messy, clutter-producing, nick-knack-loving, office supply hoarding type of person. Instead, I tend toward the more neat and tidy side of life. Still, when I am working on various projects, things can look as if they are out of control.
I work on a pile system. Almost without looking, I can locate the exact document I need from the proper stack. Files with essential documents, post-it notes with directions, comments, ideas, and reminders, litter my desktop. My favorite pens, highlighters, markers, paperclips, and binder clips live where I can reach them without thinking. Controlled chaos reigns during my major project sessions. Business means you are working on multiple mission-critical projects every day. When I complete a project, the white tornado rolls through town and puts everything in its place. In a perfect world, I would have left everything where it lay each evening, but that would not have passed muster with the clean desk patrol.
I needed a solution to keep everyone happy and allow me to work in my preferred manner. I opted to enact an elaborate subterfuge scheme. Fifteen minutes before quitting time, I would carefully move each pile and place them in a side drawer, separated by brightly colored folders. My top drawer became the dedicated night-time home for smaller items. Each morning, I spent the first few minutes drinking coffee and resetting my stage. The work-around amounted to two-and-a-half hours of unproductive staging time every week. I wonder if he ever realized he was paying me to rearrange so much paper.
Some days I don’t know where to start. They bombard us with top ten lists on every topic imaginable. To lose weight, eat this, run, walk, hang upside down while performing an impossible number of crunches. To ensure you succeed at work, don’t use these eight dreaded phrases, do contribute to the value-added proposition. Give 110% on every project, and don’t be that person who says “yes” to make the boss happy. Do you want to be the best parent at your kids’ school? Boy, do we have a list of must-dos, should-dos, and never-dos for you. By the way, you should indoctrinate your kids to these lists as well. It is what any decent, loving parent would do for the sake of their offspring’s survival.
Then for kicks, about every six to twelve months, they upend everything on us. You know those things we told you to do last year? Yeah, well, we completed a new study, and we have hot-off-the-press updates for you. That stuff we told you to do—turns out you shouldn’t do that anymore. Instead, how about implementing the bullet points under the heading “Avoid These Like the Plague.”
Even science is not immune to the total upheaval phenomenon. On Wednesday,The New York Timesran an article with the words “… particles known as muons suggest that there are forms of matter and energy vital to the nature and evolution of the cosmos that are not yet known to science.” Which prompted Mark Hamill to tweet, “The Force has been with us… ALWAYS.” I can’t take the constant upheaval of the world as we know it. Today, my soul is begging for an invigorating walk through the nature preserve, followed by a long, hot bath.
The best thing about Saturday morning is if you sleep past your alarm, no one cares. You don’t have to wake in a panic, scramble for your phone, make excuses or apologize to anyone. Face it, if you didn’t hear the annoying buzzer, it’s because you needed the rest. Your errands and the household chores will wait until you roll out of bed because I guarantee the house-elves won’t surprise you and finish them for you.
If you are lucky, you can parlay your late start into an excellent reason to immerse yourself in your soul-restoring solitary, creative pursuits. I have no interest in watching everyone’s favorite classic film for the umpteenth time. I have bigger plans. Besides, the movie assures me I will have an hour and a half of peace and uninterrupted me time. For those of us who are always on call, it is true bliss.
I encourage this activity and often suggest a movie with a sequel or two. Do you want popcorn? Are you sure a single bag of Airheads and Sour Patch is enough? The Root Beer is in the fridge, I made Chex Mix, and pizza and hot wings will arrive in ten minutes. Everyone settles, the show starts, and I make my escape into a fantasy world that exists only in my mind.
Certain Fridays have a greater significance than others, and this Friday calls for celebration. I can’t describe today’s importance. On the surface, nothing has changed, and yet, nothing is the same. Last night I worked late. Midnight arrived, and I didn’t stop. At 1 am. the world changed. Perhaps my perspective shifted, or the planets moved into more auspicious conjunctions, or maybe my long lost, single-minded, productivity-demanding muse whispered long-forgotten secrets in my ear.
It doesn’t matter who or what perpetrated the shift or why they chose today to finally flip the switch. I’m grinning like a fool, beyond excited, and I’m ready to double down on my goals, which yesterday seemed impossible to achieve. This morning I donned my superhero cape, tuned up my X-ray vision, and took my superhuman strength for a test drive. All systems are operating on pumped up, Give-her-all she’s-got-Scotty overdrive mode, and we are ready to roll. But what grand adventure doesn’t begin with a toast? My first order of business is selecting an excellent bottle of wine, and letting the wine escape and breathe. So here’s to cloudless blue skies, green lights, and honoring the unusual travel suggestions dictated by the gods. Happy Friday, everyone.
If you were playing Candy Crush on your phone and failed to win the level, would you give up? Delete the app from your device? Would you call yourself a failure, decide to quit forever, and plop on the couch with a pint of ice cream and binge the newest Netflix series? Or would you try again, and again, and again until you succeeded? I’m guessing it’s the latter.
So, why is it when we attempt something meaningful, like earning a degree, losing weight, finding a better job, or living our dream life, we allow the first roadblock to undermine our intentions? We accept the first rejection as proof positive that we are not worthy of success. We settle for mediocrity, plodding along in a series of depressing, unfulfilling days that morph into a life where we no longer dare to dream. We pin our dismal existence on convenient scapegoats. We blame the unreasonable professor, your genetically slow metabolism, a challenging economy, and lack of opportunities.
Maybe it’s time to look in the mirror. Difficult times come, but they do not come to stay. They come to pass. Other people’s opinions do not define you. You determine your value, and you have the power to decide you are unstoppable in your quest. The result is undeniable when you believe you are unbeatable. The choice is yours, and it is as simple as taking a single step, now, today, tomorrow, and repeating the process until you win.
Anything worth experiencing takes effort. When we lack a focused resolution, it is easy to find ourselves consumed by life’s crazy whirlwind of doubts, fears, anxiety, and hopelessness. Without thinking, we sink into predictable patterns of consuming massive amounts of data and processing complex concepts faster than any supercomputer. Feeling confused and overwhelmed, we plead for five minutes of silence. Is it any wonder we cope by vegging on the couch? Or we can make a different choice.
My alarm rings at 5 AM, and I force myself out of bed. No one else is awake, and calmness perfumes the air. I move in pre-dawn stillness as I brew my coffee. My oversized mug steams when I step onto my deck and wipe the dew from my chair. These early morning hours hold a special magic. Photographs cannot capture the beauty or brilliant promises on the horizon.
Songbirds sing, squirrels scamper, and a rabbit nibbles the tender growth in my strawberry patch. I snuggle into my warm jacket, sip my hot coffee, and discover I have found happiness. This quiet moment reminds me of the value inherent in simple things. These five minutes set me on a hopeful trajectory.
Jo Hawk 