My 101 things in 1,001 days officially kicked off today. And I’ve decided to start “filling the 101 Bucket” with
#17. Photo-journal a picture a day for one month.
I have a month to take some pretty great photos and decide how to best showcase them. In the meantime, today’s entry:
It’s.all.Heidi’s.fault. … and Kristina’s … and Sandy’s.
Not really. But really…Heidi started it. {shaking fist in in mock consternation in Heidi’s general direction} Pot-stirrer.
We’re both turning 40 this year, you see. Only she had to go and blog about her Year of 40 intentions. Don’t misunderstand…I adore Heidi, utterly, but here she was, embracing this life milestone, at a time when I was really struggling with it (but more about that later). Not just embracing the thing, but turning it into something useful. Productive, even. {harumph}
And that’s the point. Productivity. Time-management. Self-management(!). Accomplishment. And it resonated. Stupid decade maker is as good a time as any, I suppose, to begin managing oneself better. Because there is always room for improvement, right?
So, silly me, I somehow managed to let this Year of 40 concept slip into a conversation with Kristina. Who seized on it immediately–I’m sure her inner coach was doing gleeful little jiggety jig given this golden opportunity–and picked up the snowball Heidi so innocently lobbed, and asked what fabulousness I had planned for this year, and had I written it down? Not having learned my lesson, and apparently forgetting what happens to snowballs when you roll them (sometimes I’m a little slow on the uptake), I shared the conversation thread with Sandy.
And just like that, my own Year of 40 blew up into 101 things in 1001 days. Turns out there’s a whole movement for creating lists, setting challenges, and making positive change in your own life. Day Zero Project (who knew?!?)
My list lives here: 101 Bucket
I’d love some company (and accountability) in this quest of deliberate doing. Wanna join me? If you see something on my list you’d like to do with me, or when you decide to make your own list, let me know!!
PS–Kristina and Sandy, thanks for the butt-kicking nudge. Mwah! 😉
March. Already. I must’ve blinked. Where did January and February (and most of this month) go?!? Wait, don’t answer that. I know where they went. Or, more accurately, how they were spent. But none of that now. I’m the only one who know what it is I intended to do, to have done by now … what was on the to-do list that’s still there … I’ve been trying to give myself permission to jettison that self-imposed obligation, to give it up, to get over it, to let it go. I’m mostly winning. Mostly.
Goals. As opposed to resolutions. I’ve been thinking about these for some little while, now. Reflecting on the prior year, what worked, what didn’t, what I want to pull forward, what I should ditch … This usually happens in January. For reasons that do not need explored at this time, January and I tussled this year. February and I agreed to just call it a draw. But reflection. I’ve noticed several themes (characteristics?) that bear exploring.
I am a list-maker. The harder I try to avoid it, the more necessary a list becomes. I hadn’t thought of it until recently, but I think it’s because I’m becoming a better “straddler;” thinking and processing (predominantly) right-brain, but organizing and implementing left-brain. Macros and micros. Balancing between being a thinker and a doer. Thinkers need plenty of space for thinking big thinks. But doers need some sort of game plan, a checklist of sorts, to know a) if they are working on the right things, and b) if they are making progress. Hence my annual goal-setting. As opposed to resolutions. Goals get measured. And what gets measured gets managed. Resolutions get made. And then, well …
——-
Which reminds me of a Michael Hyatt post I read recently on to-do lists. Never mind my loose definition of “recently.” He reminded me of something I know, but forgot to remember. Specifically, it’s all one life. He said, “…I spend a crazy amount of time being strategic and intentional with my job, and I want to remember to apply that same intentionality to my relationships as well.” {face palm} Well, duh! Right?!? {note to self #774}
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But I was speaking of trends.
I fail forward. Sometimes with alarming frequency. But I think this is a good thing. And something of a skill. To risk trying something new, but be willing to abandon it if it doesn’t work. The outcome: I have an expanding knowledge base and collection of things I’m NOT good at. Which helps reinforce what I AM good at.
I am a constant work-in-progress. How I manage my time, productivity, relationships. How well, or not, I know myself. Or I think I know myself. I’m not sure there is such a state as “finished,” much less if I’ll ever get there. Sometime mid-February, I was forcefully reminded that I’m not the only one with a backstory, not the only one nursing hurts, in pain, not the only one in need of grace and comfort.
But back to goals. Last year, I reviewed the evolution of my annual goal-setting.
– 2011: More or Less List
– 2012: To Count or Not To Count List
– 2013: Stop Doing List
Which brings me back to 2014, and the idea of being intentional in every area of life: professionally, socially, personally. So, without further ado:
Deliberate: I want to be more intentional about the things I can do–and want to do–and float the rest. Letting those “if only” and “at some point” things loiter on the periphery pulls my attention away … because I know they’re still there. Less waffling, more decision-making, more doing. Commit, and be all in.
Graceful: I think I do a pretty good job extending grace to other people. But I’m pretty critical of me and stink at extending grace to myself. I want to (need to) treat myself like I would others: making allowance for and giving permission to be less than perfect, to not have it all figured out, to sometimes be broken. To fail forward.
Authentic: This one may be the toughest of the lot. I want to be less constrained by, or rather place less importance on, others opinions of me. To open up and reveal what my friend Kristina calls “basement truth.” Authenticity demands vulnerability. And energy. Authenticity also requires a certain level of bravery, I think, and I don’t always believe I have the strength or courage to be brave. Last month I risked sharing with selected, close friends that I was struggling, really struggling, with a particularly horrible bout of busted Pollyanna. And something amazing happened. There was no judgement, no withdrawal … only a new-found richness in those relationships I hadn’t known before. That, I want more of it.
Present: In both my work and private life, I’m either thinking and planning three months ahead, or looking in the rear view assessing outcomes and identifying trends. I want to spend more time here, in the now, experiencing the moments memories are made of as they happen. To put the phone down, turn the computer off, stop.planning.all.the.details. and just let the day unfold as it will, and live it as it does.
It’s a big job, being a puppy.
So many things to see.
So many things to do.
So many things to hide.
So many things to chew.
And so many sleeps to sleep…
I’ve been observing the Hairy Beasts these past few weeks. And something important I’ve noticed is that neither Zeke or Zoey let anything deter them from finding a comfortable spot and zonking out when they’re tired.
I’d noticed this before, but never really given it much thought. I just chalked it up to them being a large breed dog and needing the extra down time to keep their batteries charged. But not only have I noticed it again, this time I’m paying attention to it. Because when the puppy sleeps …
It’s not just that he sleeps, but when, and how, too. He’ll play and be rambunctious for an hour, maybe two, then crash out. And sleep hard; don’t bother me, I’m napping. After an hour or so, when he’s feeling refreshed (or thirsty, because sometimes feeling refreshed after a nap makes you thirsty), he’ll get up, stumble over to the water dish, drink like he’s never tasted water before, and then just sit a minute. When he gets his bearings, he’s off to be rambunctious again. Rinse, repeat at least 5 times each day.
HTBAHB Lesson 1: Be your Own Dog 
Meet Zeke, Hairy Beast in Training. He joined our family last week. At 11 wks old, he already has a sweet temperament and defined personality.
And a mind of his own … he’s got a pretty decided independent streak. Which is a good thing; he has big paw prints to fill. Farm Dog leaves a significant legacy. But Zeke isn’t Gabe, and he doesn’t have the same frame of reference (any, for that matter) for expected pattern(s) of behavior.
Zeke is definitely his own dog. He knows what he likes and doesn’t like. He likes his belly rubbed. He doesn’t like being told no. He doesn’t like going to bed when he’s overtired. He likes snow and he loves his new dog. For the first few days, Zoey wasn’t too sure about the little furball, but he’s become “her puppy.” She keeps a look out for where he is. They’ve started to play together, and it is pure entertainment to watch.
Zeke’s decided he likes toys. Soft ones (the cloth/”hairy”) kind. With squeakers. The more obnoxious the squeaker, the better.
Sunday afternoon, he braved the big scary new world of the back field. He didn’t go too far without his dog. Fuzzy Butt was in seventh heaven, making all the dog angels she could. Zeke would put his nose down, run off a few yards, then stop and sit. Like a sentinel on duty, watching Zoey roll, Zeke would sit and just survey his world and taking it all in.
He likes helping me change the hummie feeder, and skim the thin layer of ice off the bird bath. And by helping, I mean weaving in and out of around my feet.
Speaking of birds, he kinda likes chasing birds. Which is fine with me.
Maybe he’ll finally run off the pigeons.