I’ve fallen into a new way to start my day. With running tenuous due to my calf injury, I was forced to abort this morning’s workout after only one measly mile. Feeling sorry for myself, I grabbed my coffee and settled into a lounge chair on my patio, rationalizing that I would normally be using this time for exercise, so a few minutes outside wasn’t really cutting into anything productive. I think it may have been the best decision I made all day.
While my property is tiny and nondescript from the street, the backyard opens up to a three-acre pond. There is enough mass to keep the water moving, evoking tranquility, especially on a balmy, bright and breezy day like today. Simply saying it’s good for the soul doesn’t begin to get at what the experience really does for me.
With nothing but upside from this brief and harmless hiatus, why do I have such a hard time allowing myself to indulge?
I am always on the move. Down time is a difficult concept for me. I run hard and fast at all things, often berating myself if I’m caught in an idle minute. I spent many years operating under the premise that I needed to get everything done before I could sit down for a moment of peace for myself. What I didn’t realize is that the list of things to do is endless. It’s like the register of “People You May Know” that LinkedIn kicks you to the second you send out an invitation to connect: Scrolling down to the bottom only results in more names and faces appearing. It is a hypnotic vortex feeding on our insatiable curiosity and need to get to the end.
Much has been written on the topic of time management and the impossibility of getting it all done. One of my favorites is an HBR blog written by Peter Bregman. I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I’ve fallen a little bit in love with Bregman, not despite the fact that he is married, but more likely for the very reason he is married: He regularly weaves into his writing references to the relationship he and his wife cultivate. He’s dreamy. His style speaks to me. He writes consistently on the ethos of business and the value a keen sense of self-awareness brings to everything in life. It’s refreshing to get this perspective from a successful male. Check him out here:
Since I’ve finally conceded I can’t get it all done and I deserve some time to breathe throughout my day, I am a happier person. I’ve found that setting time limits, especially for tasks I find it difficult to focus on, keeps everything moving and ensures I touch multiple priorities each day. This same practice also justifies my own version of playing hooky: Allowing myself a finite period of time at any point in my day to take a break and do something I totally enjoy.
A friend of mine does this well. She has found a niche job that nourishes her craving for books and reading. When she runs across something so compelling she just has to read, she allows herself a few minutes to stop and feed her habit. How decadent is that? I have been the beneficiary of some of her discoveries in those moments and I’m better for it.
There will always be something that needs to be done. No matter how hard we work, we never seem to get to the bottom of that list. It doesn’t mean we’re ineffective, or we’re slackers. As Bregman points out in his blog, we’re limited resources. Bound by 24 hours in a day, we reach a saturation point. Is this hard to accept? When you’ve always pictured yourself as Superwoman, it probably is. But it’s also a relief.
Take off the cape. Look across the spectrum of what you could be doing, and decide what you should be doing. What really matters should always be at the top. Things that don’t matter can slide. They really can.
Make time for yourself by giving your time only to what really matters.
"Things which matter most, must never be at the mercy of things which matter least". -- Goethe
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