When I was a bit younger...quite a bit younger, I used to dream of all the things I would do when I finally got old enough to call my own shots. Just a few short years of high school, or finishing college, or establishing myself in a job or marriage or with the children were all that separated me from the freedom that I had been seeking for all the time leading up to those particular milestones and the ones that came before them.
Back in the early days, I suspect what I really wanted was the same sort of freedom that I already had at my fingertips, but with just a little more means to truly accomplish those things that I wished. This kicked off a whole series of events that would eventually lead to me mustering the means that I'd sought to truly take advantage of the freedom that I already had.
The way the system here works is that (generally) the more means you muster, the more responsibility that you have to execute to hold onto those means. More responsibility means a little less time on your hands, and suddenly I found that I had fallen into a bit of a routine that responsible people like me call "time management." I began to resemble this...
Now in all fairness, this sentiment has a number of detractors, and Mr. Kain has a point about speaking this way from a position of privilege. That said, there is quite a bit of truth in this statement and it's worth remembering when the routine of responsibilities and the struggle to earn a living get a bit out of balance. In the midst of all the struggle, there is still the opportunity to change your perspective, and for me, that's an important aspect of retaining the perspective of freedom that can so easily be lost in the execution of the routine.
Earlier this morning, I was treading along one of my more familiar routes wondering what I was going to write about tonight, when I decided on a whim to jump up on top of a wall that runs along Annapolis Harbor to see if that change of a couple of feet from my usual route might offer some inspiration. It's something that I've seen my kids do time and time again, and I've probably even done it myself although I don't remember the specifics.
The first thing that struck me was that the act of stepping up removed me from the minor crush of pedestrian traffic that was out and about in the cool Labor Day morning. I had space to my front and my back, that had been there the whole time (and many other times before) that I'd just failed to see clearly enough to take advantage of at the time.
Also, while the view was largely the same as the view from the sidewalk, the act of stepping up a double handful of inches changed my routine just enough to gain a new appreciation of the view. This is what I saw.
The simple act of breaking my routine added a new perspective on a familiar view. It put a bit of spring back in my step, broke me out of some mental complaining that I'd been engaged in, and set the tone for a day a little more full of doing things to maximize the freedoms I'd dreamed of achieving at this point in my life as a younger man.
Routine is a very useful tool in getting the things done that need to be done, but I think it's important to inject little ups and downs into the routine to serve as a reminder of the joy that the routine enables. When the responsibility and routine become an ends to themselves life becomes a bit more of a honing experience than was intended by the architect of the wonder that exists all around us.
Back in the early days, I suspect what I really wanted was the same sort of freedom that I already had at my fingertips, but with just a little more means to truly accomplish those things that I wished. This kicked off a whole series of events that would eventually lead to me mustering the means that I'd sought to truly take advantage of the freedom that I already had.
The way the system here works is that (generally) the more means you muster, the more responsibility that you have to execute to hold onto those means. More responsibility means a little less time on your hands, and suddenly I found that I had fallen into a bit of a routine that responsible people like me call "time management." I began to resemble this...
Now in all fairness, this sentiment has a number of detractors, and Mr. Kain has a point about speaking this way from a position of privilege. That said, there is quite a bit of truth in this statement and it's worth remembering when the routine of responsibilities and the struggle to earn a living get a bit out of balance. In the midst of all the struggle, there is still the opportunity to change your perspective, and for me, that's an important aspect of retaining the perspective of freedom that can so easily be lost in the execution of the routine.
Earlier this morning, I was treading along one of my more familiar routes wondering what I was going to write about tonight, when I decided on a whim to jump up on top of a wall that runs along Annapolis Harbor to see if that change of a couple of feet from my usual route might offer some inspiration. It's something that I've seen my kids do time and time again, and I've probably even done it myself although I don't remember the specifics.
The first thing that struck me was that the act of stepping up removed me from the minor crush of pedestrian traffic that was out and about in the cool Labor Day morning. I had space to my front and my back, that had been there the whole time (and many other times before) that I'd just failed to see clearly enough to take advantage of at the time.
Also, while the view was largely the same as the view from the sidewalk, the act of stepping up a double handful of inches changed my routine just enough to gain a new appreciation of the view. This is what I saw.
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| Annapolis Harbor from the top of the sea wall. |
The simple act of breaking my routine added a new perspective on a familiar view. It put a bit of spring back in my step, broke me out of some mental complaining that I'd been engaged in, and set the tone for a day a little more full of doing things to maximize the freedoms I'd dreamed of achieving at this point in my life as a younger man.
Routine is a very useful tool in getting the things done that need to be done, but I think it's important to inject little ups and downs into the routine to serve as a reminder of the joy that the routine enables. When the responsibility and routine become an ends to themselves life becomes a bit more of a honing experience than was intended by the architect of the wonder that exists all around us.
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