I think I fill my time quite well. When I’m not working on economic justice issues or taking some downtime, I’m:
– spending time with Rebecca,
– in my garden (or thinking about it),
– reading about current events, philosophy, or some self-improvement piece,
– working with my friend, Lee Urton, to keep our blog, Intellectual Roundtable, going,
– engaging those around me about mental health matters (either through blogging, social media, or direct conversations),
– exercising, or
– listening to music.
I consider all these things meaningful stuff.
And yet, when someone asks me what I did the other day, during the weekend, or over the past week, I sell myself and my activities short: “Oh [so-and so}, I did what I always do. I gardened, read a book, and listened to some music.” My answer doesn’t inspire more conversation. It certainly doesn’t convey the awe I feel when I have my hands in the soil, share what I learned about when reading a thought-provoking essay, or get across how important music is in my life.
Do you do this, too?
This “blah” representation of how I spend my time is one thing I’m trying to change about myself. If I want more people to be inspired to become heirloom gardeners, I need to find a more awesome way to recount the beauty (and nutritiousness) of the food I am growing in my raised beds. If I want to engage with my friends and colleagues about serious political matters–and how individuals can make a difference–then I need to draft a few main points that get those around me asking questions about the essay that’s got me so worked up. And if I want others to agree when I go off on how music can transform a terrible day into one that at least ended on a different note, I really should share why, for example, a Rilo Kiley song nearly always puts a lump in my throat.
I may live a fairly patterned life. But it’s also a meaningful life. How I talk about myself and my actions should convey that.
Is the same true about you?
[The picture attached to this post is of me and one of my former pups, Carlos. He really liked green beans. He would even steal them out of the freezer when we’d be stocking up the fridge after a run to Costco. Anyhow, I love this picture because Carlos and I connected over my garden that day. While picking green beans, I would throw one out to him once in a while, which he would crunch, crunch, crunch. He didn’t understand why–at the moment Rebecca took this picture– he couldn’t have some more.]
