On Planning a Life

As a puppy, no matter how hard I tried to coax her, Kiri would never lay at my feet under my desk while I was writing.

It was part of the image I had in my mind: The writer and her dog. The productive and warm, fuzzy mornings with a mug of coffee and a buzzing computer. The quiet afternoons of revision, before the kids tumbled in the front door finished with school. I would bake, and make nourishing dinners.

I tried that for a couple of years. It didn’t work out.

img_20151001_083944Now Kiri is well over 15, and lying beside me, on the small oriental rug here in my tiny library. But this is not what I imagined.

My children are grown, and have moved out.

And I’ve moved out. Started over again, first on my own, then with a new partner. I would say that nothing has gone according to plan, but the truth is there was never a plan, only an image.

The question I had put to myself all those years is what do you want to be? Rather than what are you going to do?

In some ways, I am grateful for that. For what spontaneity has added to my life. The unexpected is always an adventure. I think it has made me braver than I might otherwise have been. I learned lessons, some very hard (some very hard on the people in my life).

But regrets are a waste of time. Even in hindsight, one can never really know what the results would have been from having made a different choice, at any juncture.

Many years ago, my best friend bought me a print by the artist Brian Andreas:

“If you hold on to the handle, she said, it is easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it’s more fun if you just let the wind carry you.” – Brian Andreas

It is a philosophy I have only half-embraced. I’ve usually used it to comfort myself when I’m faced with my own failure to achieve that “image”–however fuzzy–I’ve had in the back of my mind.

It seems odds with the now-ubiquitous line from Mary Oliver’s poem  “The Sumer Day”:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

But these are only the final lines. There is more to the poem:

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.

(from “The Summer Day”. Mary Oliver)

I never planned to pay attention. But, suddenly, this seems like a very good idea. Instead of dwelling on the past, looking to define lessons-learned and outline regrets, it might be smart to catch up with myself: to pay attention to the present.

Instead of stumbling backwards into the unexpected, to walk face-first with an open mind into the days.

I recently finished Diana Nyad‘s memoir Find a Way. She writes that with age and wisdom comes balance. I would guess this also means the balance between planning and achieving. Following the failure of her fourth attempt to swim from Cuba to Florida, she celebrates:

The journey has been inordinately worthwhile, the destination be dammed (for one night anyway). – Diana Nyad

Pick up. Learn from mistakes. Plan: then pay attention to every stroke, every moment.

There are so many things in life that are obviously not under our control. But where we put our attention is not one of them.

7 Comments

  1. Friends who saw Nyad at a speaking engagement not too long ago said she was the most inspirational speaker, and the most ‘authentic,’ that they had ever seen. That idea that the destination matters less than the journey (read “process/progress”)…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ren Powell says:

    One of the things I didn’t mention, but that moved me in her memoir: she talked about all the people who ask if her difficult (sexual abuse) childhood made her so strong. She said, she would never give them credit for that. I would love to be in a room with her. I bet she just radiates positive energy.

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  3. Celia says:

    Wow: “I would say that nothing has gone according to plan, but the truth is there was never a plan, only an image. The question I had put to myself all those years is what do you want to be? Rather than what are you going to do?”

    Like

  4. susan558 says:

    On the choice of where to put our minds:
    I started to journal after I’d lost two loved ones back to back. The practice (and now it’s like meditating) of putting thoughts – no matter what they were – to paper, every single day, even before I got dressed, helped me clear my head, AND understand the difference between dwelling vs. sliding back for help with a current problem.

    I had to stop believing I’d become melancholy and realize I was often,trying to find missing puzzle pieces. From there, it’s easier to choose how to deal: “I’ve got stuff happening now. I’ll think about this later in the car.”

    In both cases, there has to be the priority to tend to the present. I’ve told my kids forever: “Up or down, everything is just right now.”

    Sorry for the rambling comment, but I love this topic so much, I wasn’t sure how to organize.

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    • Love the rambling comment! I honestly believe that both writers and people who think of themselves as “not” writers can stop and be in the moment when they put down words in coherent sentences. I am also a morning writer – I need to start the day with a sense of the present moment. A kind of meta-awareness of “this is life”. It is always nice to know there are others out there with the same experience.

      I am sorry you experience a double loss like that.

      Like

  5. c says:

    Living without regrets isn’t as easy as it may seem – but necessary.

    Like

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