That may be a solution, but I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m supposed to working smarter, supposed to be more efficient – leveraging technology to do more with less, do it faster, and be more productive than ever.
In my 20s, I remember being envious of high output successful people in their 30s and 40s and envious of those streaks of grey that implied experience, commanded respect and inspired me to act more mature, and give sage advice and garner more green.
What hair remains is going from grey to white. Those older ones, I no longer envy, are slow, slower, or dead. The ones in their 30s and 40s have it all; the youth, energy, fresh ideas, and people in their 20s envy them. Trust me, older people envy them too!
After poring over morning papers, my table should be empty – clear, desktop too, but as this week concluded, there seems to be more to do than was sitting here before I began the week.
Where did my time go?
Whose fault is this anyway?
Where did the extra work come from?
Because this should be easier, it could be easier, if I did less …
And this day ought to be casual – relaxed, a day of restful reflection to clean up the loose ends of the week, to consider the week’s lessons learned, organize the schedule of the week ahead.
This first week has passed, and it seems like I’ve got a week’s work left for accomplishing today; I have to wonder, is that normal? Or do other people find the same result – of getting overwhelmed already?
In my situation, it isn’t driven by a lineup outside my door or an endlessly ringing phone, but rather by expectations I put on myself to do each day, committed to higher energy activities, and generating the momentum of several new initiatives.
I’m thinking of inventing a new calendar for those of us who are losing a step at the same time as we take on more – it would be a day-spacer, place-holder day of work between a semi-restful Friday and Saturday with some relaxation built into it, an expansion joint for when things get accordion-ed and too stretched out beyond my five-day capacity.
Time flew, work grew, and though days are getting longer now, not long enough …
The dilemma of self-analysis, to determine if I didn’t work hard enough, didn’t get enough done, or if I tried to do too much …
Here I sit, one week done, fifty-one to go.
I’m going to need a bigger table.
And more time.
I’ll write less often and say more.
I’ll start less and finish more.
I need more than a bigger table, or a bigger boat, or a bigger brain – I need a tiny focus, a more singular one, and for that – you’ll have to tune in tomorrow. There is a more fulsome explanation – a revelation of sorts, which has energized me and temporarily added to my workload, and I’m thrilled about that.
We can, at any age, have it all. And I’ll keep working on it until I prove it. A better solution, more power with less effort, to be continued …