four children + green dreams + recipes + story writing + running wild + (sanity) = where you'll find me
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Word of the year
"there was such a moon"
I cheated. This year, I've claimed two words. My word-of-the-year friends were skeptical at first, but I swear I saw this online somewhere and it's allowed. (Are there actual formal rules and guidelines for word-of-the-year? I suppose it is right there in the title, singular, not plural).
My word of the year is work/play.
It was going to be work. Work grabbed me and shook me and said, hey you, this year, you're going to focus on me. And I replied, sounds good, I'd like that. So I walked around with Work for a week or more, quietly testing it out and accepting it as my word. Except it didn't seem complete all by its rigorous demanding lonesome. That's when Play jumped into the mix. Hi there, remember me?
Here's the thing: in my world, in my being, Work comes naturally. Work is Play. I am easily obsessed by the completion of goals. I like to do things. I throw myself in really deep and sometimes get lost inside of Work. Yes, I want this year to be about Work--about Working, to be precise. But I need to strive for some balance. I need to seek out Play, too, accept it when it comes knocking at my door.
For me, Play is sometimes more like Work. Not always, not precisely, but let me put it this way: I will beeline for my office at the mere suggestion that there's work to be done; it takes more effort, more convincing, to call me outside to play. Sad but true. It is also true that I could not create what I do without going outside to play. So my work stands to suffer and stagnate without making room, taking time, clearing space, to leap into the spontaneous, the adventuresome, the just plain fun.
One of my word-of-the-year friends told me I should make a "Playlist" (nice!). On the spot, I couldn't come up with much. Ask me for a Worklist and I'll get down to business. But what's on my Playlist? Truthfully, I don't know yet. Surprise me, Playlist. (For some reason, horseback riding was the one thing that leapt immediately to mind).
I also aim to combine Work and Play this year. They don't have to stand in opposition to one another. Where do these words align, in my life and yours?
Yesterday held a satisfying mix of work/play. I ran with a friend before dawn; served breakfast, plus made supper in the crockpot; got everyone out the door; napped for 20 minutes; worked on a new song at the piano for half the morning and worked at my desk for the other half; picked up my youngest from nursery school; ran errands; ate lunch; squeezed in a little more writing time while he watched a movie (and no, I won't apologize for the tactic); picked up the girls early from school for their piano lessons; visited with a friend who works at the same place the girls have their lessons; arrived home to finish making supper and hang laundry; parented some bad meal-time behavior; headed out for supper with my siblings, within walking distance; picked up Albus and walked him (almost all the way) home from his piano lesson; walked to meet with friends over tea to talk about word-of-the-year; and finally, at the end of the day, spent time with Kevin.
I was going to try to categorize each item above as either work or play or work/play, but realized I'm not sure where everything falls. Serving breakfast to my kids can be really fun when we're all talking together; or it can be a real chore when I'm hungry too and everyone's grumpy and wants something different and we discover homework that still needs doing, etc. I also realized that there isn't really room for the critical element of "rest" within work/play. I'm not going to add a third word. But it's there, lurking behind the scenes. The lack of it gets in the way of both work and play. I don't care to focus on it, but hope to get enough of it, both mental and physical, this year. (Play seems like mental rest, though, doesn't it?).
I'm mother of four, writer, dreamer, planner, runner, photographer, taking time for a cup of coffee in front of this computer screen. My days are full, yet I keep asking: how can I fill them just a little bit more
-- with depth, with care, with pleasure.