First Things
It starts before I even open my eyes. A cascade of tasks tumbling out in no rank order, rolling over the edges of my just barely awake mind, jockeying for top spot on the to-do list while I try to remember where I put my socks. Laundry, fresh batches of granola to be made, finishing up last night’s dishes left with good intentions in the wash basin by the kitchen sink and don’t forget to pay the gas card bill online. Kitties will be hangry and batting their claws-out paws at each other, what’s clean and presentable to wear to work? Speaking of work, did I send that project update email or just imagine I did and is there enough card stock to print a round of motivational meme cards for an upcoming meeting? Right about now, it’s clear that if I don’t tend to my morning ablutions and soon, I’ll have something else to add to the list.
Does anyone else start their days like this?
A life of continuous motion awaits us on the other side of the womb and doesn’t show any signs of letting up until we transition over to the Big Stillness where finally, I’ll get some rest. It’s not the richness of activity that unsettles me at times as much as the need to figure out which tasks are urgent, important or both. Prioritizing one’s life is a complex load to carry and it doesn’t help that the baggage keeps shifting around. As young-uns, much of this work was done for us by taller and more responsible folks (parents, teachers, elder siblings on power trips while mom and dad were out grocery shopping on Friday nights) but they eventually stepped aside as we demonstrated a budding ability to mange things on our own. When we screwed up, they would helpfully rearrange the chaos and hand it back to us for another go. But there’s no playbook for getting it Right All The Time and so…we unspool a life of trial and error and here we are to tell the tale.
Somewhere beneath the surface of all this internal activity imposed on external circumstances is a persistent nudge of what matters most in any given moment or situation. Let me ask you, dear reader and fellow traveler, at what point do you remember developing those core nonnegotiable values that helped you find your true north and apply it to some of your more nettlesome brain benders over the years? When did you learn that people are more important than things (we actually had a family friend create a lovely banner in classic 70’s burlap and felt style with that quote on it. It hung by the front door for years, guiding our out-the-door thoughts at the beginning of the day and offering both reassurance and admonishment when we returned. I think I claimed it when it came time for the family goods to be distributed), that being honest might not always feel good in the moment but, when practiced again and again, knitted together the strong threads of your own integrity? How did you learn gratitude for the smallest of pleasures and wonder and awe for the incomprehensible ones? Who taught you to love and presume good intention in front of all evidence to the contrary?
I still have wise people (some still taller than I am) in my life to help guide some of my stuck moments (I keep my personal board of directors on their toes) but it’s these hard-won and indelible conscience-framers that filter the choices I face daily. Easing Patrick into a hectic workday by having his coffee and lunch ready will always be more important than getting two trays of raspberry birthday cake granola baked and cooling before my morning walk. All living things not human who rely on us for food will be fed before I sit down to my own bowl of oats and in a stretch to make coming home from work just a smidge calmer, I’ll make the bed and be sure most of the kitchen floor is swept. It’s not a grand affair to tend to such details but I’m of the mindset that anything I can do to make future Liz and Patrick less stressed is worth the effort up front. Before I put my bare feet on the cool floor, I try to say thank you for even having a bed and floor in the first place.
I know life doesn’t move in a linear no-circling-back sort of motion, where what was first today will always and forever be first from that moment forward. I expect a shifting sands existence where what anchors me is what matters most. In those fresh waking minutes of a new day where tasks, like energetic toddlers, tug at my sleeves for all my attention, I’ll try to receive them with kindness and a thankful heart rather than a nerve-straining pressure to get everything right.
In a world of first things first, I choose to lead with gratitude.
