I'm talking of course, about my "to do" list.
I'm a fan of making lists. In the Myers-Briggs type indicator, I'm a "J," which means I'm insanely organized and a preparer. I make lists for everything, traveling, work duties, stuff to buy, personal achievements, things I want to learn, things I want to teach my kids, etc. Lists themselves are not inherently bad. At their best they help keep me focused or ensure that I don't forget a toothbrush when leaving on a jet plane. But at their worst, they keep me appraised of all the things I'm not doing, all the ways I'm not living up to my potential, all the things I could, should, need to accomplish, or I won't be worthy enough.
I've justified having the list(s) for a long time, I've avoided the truth behind some of them. I've said, no, they aren't damaging at all, they're important, they're goals, they're something to shoot for. They're dreams and wishes and are totally innocuous. "*fingers in the ears* LALALALALA not listening to you!!!" I have journals full of lists, I have lists on random pieces of paper, I have lists in prominent places to serve as a daily reminder. I even have lists on this blog. Despite each of these lists, I seem to constantly find myself struggling with the answer to "what are things you do that make you happiest? What do you enjoy? What do you want to do?" It's like a big flashing neon sign comes up each time that says "I have absolutely no idea."
So I decided to start out with the most important list I have. The one that's my personal to do list. It has things to do now, things to do later, things to buy, and future goals. And I just chucked it. Poof, gone, finito, IN THE BIN. If what was on it is really important to me, if it's something I really want to do, to buy, to accomplish, I will do it. I won't need prompting, I won't need a reminder. And if I do, maybe I didn't really want to do it so badly in the first place.
|Master Yoda, (c) George Lucas, Wookiepedia|
Here's to liberation. :)