don't prepare

Anyone who knows me even a little bit know that I love a plan. I started reading this book made up of maxims to live by that a friend lent me. I read the book twice through on the plane home, fascinated with every concept, and a heightened sense of wanting to be rising. Wanting to be what? More. Better. Free-er. Livlier. Patient. Wanting to feel alive in every inch of my body. So on the second read, I started taking notes and just writing down things that struck me. Tonight I'm once again flipping through the book, and there are so many grabbing and moving ideas, but I keep coming back to the second maxim. Don't Prepare. To me, that's like saying, hey, let's jump out of this plane and leave our parachutes here. The book says, "We often substitute planning, ruminating, or list-making for actually doing something about our dreams." I think back to all the times I've daydreamed about this or that...or made in-depth lists to find that all of my time has been spent writing it, and no time acting upon it. I am so centered around my plans that if something strays off course, my day is altered negatively. I'm setting myself up for disaster, but planning and lists are my safety zone! The book suggests that the space outside your safety zone is actually the best place to live. When we substitute attention for preparation, we get to live right now; responding to each moment as it comes. There's an exercise in this chapter that asks the reader to envision a box...ok. Mine's shiny yellow with pink ribbon. Yea, it's kind of ugly. Next we have to shake it and open it...what is it? First, I blank. Then I start to absolutly panic! Images of what it might be race through my head, but I can't think of anything clearly and I'm starting to get nervous. Quick! Pick something! At this point I'm devastated because this proves just how plan-oriented and closed minded I am. So I shut the book and put it down for an hour. When I come back to it, I vow to myself that I will clear my mind, and allow it to wander where it will. The suspense in opening this imaginary box is killing me! What could it be?! It's a toaster. A TOASTER?! Is that normal? Shouldn't I want like a pair of Christian Louboutin heels or keys to a new car? Apparently, I really want a toaster. But that's okay because I'm beyond thrilled with myself. I am a vast and deep abyss of unique knowledge, and it's time I trusted my moment to moment instincts.

Tomorrow I will go with what moves me, no plans included.