So, Ted wrote a post recently about the state of knitting, life, and the universe, and mentioned making a list of projects he wanted to completed before he died or lost his eyesight (whichever came first)--
(Aside: I've been mulling over something similar lately, mostly as a result of the realization that in the last year, my eyesight has changed dramatically. It's more to do with no longer having wonderful depth perception, and an inability to see unless there is amazing and bright light. We all know this has more to do with age than anything else, so it's not going to get better...)
-- and I made a glib remark in his comments about him coming over to the "dark side", and joining forces with those of us who advocate making Life Lists.
At which point, he challenged me to write a post about my own experiences with The List.
Now, I have touched on my List here, and I did record a podcast episode about it a while back, and even chatted about List-Making with my List Guru last June, but I figure it never hurts to do a little evangelizing about The List.
So, Ted, here you go:
Around twenty years ago, I decided to sit down and make a list of all the things I wanted to accomplish in my life. I turned off the inner censor, and just let 'er rip.
And then I tucked the list into the back of a file box, back behind the china registry lists and pay stubs and phone bills. Yes, I used to be incredibly organized about all this stuff, but I tell myself that my life was so much less complicated then, when really, I was just younger and more energetic.
Anyway. I tucked the list away and then forgot about it, and dragged that file box of stubs and bills and whatnot around with me for twenty years, until last year, when, thinking we might have to sell the house, I started going through stuff and purging.
I hit the file box, and immediately put everything in it through the shredder.
Including the Life List.
Oh, I sat down and looked at the Life List, and found it an utterly, completely depressing experience. I was gutted when I realized that I'd accomplished practically nothing on it, and terribly sad when I realized that given age and the passage of time and the state of my life, I probably wasn't going to accomplish any of it any way.
(One of the items on the list was to visit Venice. I'd been planning that for our tenth anniversary, and knew at that point that unless The Other found a job quickly, Venice wasn't going to happen. I'm zen about it all now -- I really do believe that if we're meant to have an experience, the pieces will fall into place to allow it to happen, but just at that moment, I was angry at myself and at the Universe for the Not Being Able to Go To Venice thing.)
But I digress.
So, annoyed at life, the Universe and everything, I put The List through the shredder and continued working on purging my life.
Not very long after I shredded The List, I was listening to The Zedcast (Episode 38, if you're curious). I was on the elliptical trainer at the gym, and there was Bruce Murray talking about The List.
I got off the trainer. I sat on the ledge by the windows and I listened. Because I knew this was The Universe's way of getting my attention.
As I listened to Bruce tell his story, I had this sudden realization: I could make a new list. No, not just that -- I needed to make a new List.
I needed to believe that there were things I wanted to do with the rest of my life, that there were things I needed to do with the rest of my life, and I needed to believe that somehow, I could make those things happen. Oh, okay, maybe not all of them, but I decided then and there that if I didn't sit down again and make a List, if I didn't turn off the inner censor a second time, well -- I knew that I'd probably just continue to drift through life, that I'd end up at the end of my life a small and empty shell of a person, that maybe I'd even end up dry and bitter and angry.
And I didn't want that to happen.
So I sat down, and I made a list. I put everything and anything on The List. I even cheated and put a few things on The List that I knew would be easy to accomplish, because I wanted the pleasure right away of being able to cross a few things off the list.
And interestingly enough, I've even accomplished a couple of things in the last year that I put on The List without quite knowing how I'd ever get them done, without quite believing that they really would be possible.
Every so often I take out The List and have a look at it, and find, surprisingly, that some things I've done, and some things I really don't want to do. I cross them off, and then I think about adding new things to it.
I think what makes The List work is that what it really represents is positive energy, positive forward motion. Instead of sitting here and giving in to my self-doubt and depression (more on which in another post), I push myself to keep going, no matter what.
No, not everything works out in life. And I'm still not entirely convinced I'm ever going to get to Venice at the rate things are going.
But I know I'll never get there if I don't make the intention known to The Universe.
So Venice? On The List, bay-bee!
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