At the end of each year, the calendar often seems to have just the kind of dip in deadlines and workload that invites a contemplative wallow. Especially so for me this year, since I was traveling the first half of December.
I knew I’d want to spend some time over the winter holidays processing my thoughts and sensations from that trip: writing about the places, cataloging the sounds I recorded, sending follow-up emails to those I’d met, and organizing photos like this one:
But I also wanted to devote some time to thinking through my plans for 2010, to set out some specific and concrete goals, and decide how to achieve them.
I had a basic structure in mind, using questions and exercises I had accumulated over the last few months, some of my own creation, others pulled from books like Carol Lloyd’s fantastic “Creating a Life Worth Living“.
At the end of two weeks, I imagined I’d have some combination of “outputs” like:
- a writing schedule for the blog and podcast
- a tidy page full of measurable goals
- practical achievable quarterly reading lists
- answers to all the deep questions
- maybe even a Gantt chart or two
All the kinds of artifacts you’re supposed to have to switch into the past tense with confidence, and say: “I planned.”
Well, enlightenment didn’t arrive in a neat bundle. Despite all the planning for the planning, my brain has been wiggling and writhing away from most of the tools I’d selected.
Sitting at the table, I kept reaching past the activities I’d assembled to pick up Jennifer Michael Hecht’s Doubt or Anne Carson’s translations of the Sappho fragments, or Borges or Chatwin or Emily Dickinson or Marcus Aurelius — or even Mark Bittman. All delightful, and all worth reading, put not necessarily frameworks for long-term planning or establishing those measurable goals.
Or maybe they are, indirectly: I found that each changed the contours of the course of my thoughts throughout the rest of a day.
I’ve read in those repositories of modern American myth known as business magazines that there are people who put “30,000 feet” projects on their schedule at a given time, for example “Plan future from 10:00 to 10:30″, and it works for them. They must be under some spell that I haven’t encountered. I sometimes envy creatures with such clockwork minds — but only sometimes.
When the mind wanders, why not let the body follow? Or at least try, if it can keep up.
Rather than confining myself to my desk, as though I was back in middle-school detention, I went walking — in rain, sun and even snow.
Amidst what seemed more like a muddle than work – walking on a whim, whenever the mood struck — I found myself engaged in a different approach to planning: I wandered with a pen and a pocket full of index cards, stopping as needed to scribble thoughts as they came to me.
Now, looking back at it, I don’t have all the fastidious “deliverables” I had expected, but I do have some clues:
Each card is like a ballot. Sorting and counting and typing and editing them has become a kind of informal, non-binding straw poll of where my mind is headed.
As I tally the votes, look for ballot-stuffing and other irregularities that might signify unwanted interference, and make note of all the write-in candidates and ad-hoc ballot initiatives with scarcely any support, I’ve discovered several patterns amidst those scribbles.
I’ve achieved much more than I originally thought.
And I’ve also been reminded: not only do we often find answers in unexpected places, but the path to those places is often unexpected, too.
So what do I have in the works for this year? I hope you’ll keep reading as it unfolds.
What’s your 2010 looking like? Did you do any year-end planning? How did it go? What methods worked for you? Please add a comment or send an email and let me know. And Happy New Year.