Taking time

This is the longest interval I've gone without blogging other than when I have been out of town. There are a couple of reasons. For the first few days, no topic came to mind. Then, I became really busy. And, even today, I am not sure what direction this entry will end up taking. Time will tell.

I have a lot going on that is positive. I came home from teaching skiing on Friday to find some urgent work-related messages (I'm managing a project in two countries with three organizations that operate very differently). I sat down at my computer and responded before I had even taken off my ski clothes. After dealing with the situation and working through the guilt that I put on myself for not being available earlier in the day, I decided I needed some time to myself. I put on my pajamas, added a down vest for extra warmth, ...oh it was so comfy...and prepared for a quiet evening at home. A friend, who I seldom see because she works hard at the business she owns, called and asked me to join some other friends for coffee. I went even though I knew that I would miss my own quiet time.

Saturday was similar. I had a list of tasks each of which I enjoy, but cumulatively made me feel stressed as I hurried to complete the list. Most of the things on my list related to Christmas preparations and I do them because they have meaning to me. For example, I like to make wreaths. Generally, I linger over the scent of the fresh boughs and am particular as I choose and tie the ribbon as a final accent. This year, I am satisfied with the look of my wreath but because I hurried, I did not enjoy its creation.

Sunday was different. I was at the ski hill but in a new capacity. I led my first session training other ski instructors. I wasn't nervous (except a bit of apprehension about how my toes would deal with the minus 18 Celsius temperatures). I was confident as I explained the importance of keeping the groups of students moving on a cold day to the other instructors. I was confident as we started with one skill and built on it through the session. I learned that my voice doesn't carry outside as loudly as I need it to. I learned that, even training other instructors, they each have different needs. While I knew this in terms of their physical skiing skills, what this first session reinforced for me, is that each also have varying pyschological needs that need to be addressed. Later, in the day, I also worked with other instructors in customizing their lessons to their clients - whether that meant splitting the class in two, bringing cold children inside to warm up or helping parents understand what their children learned in lesson.

That night, I was reflecting on how busy I am and thought of a section in "Finding Your Own North Star" by Martha Beck in which she describes some of what happens when you are finding what you are meant to do. The first step is to "work like a dog". Yes, that is how I've been feeling. I've been working non-stop. I often think to myself, "Life is good when there are so many things that you want to do that you can't find the time to do them".

On to Monday, which should have been a joyful day. Six of us were scheduled to ski with one of most accomplished ski instructors in Canada. I was looking forward to learning from him. It was cold again yesterday and the school groups cancelled. The lion's share of skiers and riders on a weekday are school groups; the general public comprises a very small percentage. There was tension as different functional factions negotiated as to when lifts would open. The ski hill did open, but late, and the snow making was left on. This reduced the enjoyment for all but also created a safety hazard. The visibility was so reduced that I struggled to see the lift towers. I can't imagine how customers less familiar with the terrain felt. The snow making did stop after lunch but, as someone with a strong customer focus, I felt disappointed in the decision making I witnessed. I did enjoy skiing and learning but my overall energy felt tainted by what I had seen.

I came home and was very tired. I wanted to crawl into bed by 7:00. Instead, I was working on my international project and, again feeling guilty. I just wanted to cry and didn't know why. Tears did come and they flowed until my dog, Bode, came and licked them away. I cried again an hour later and they stopped when I got a phone call from a friend. I went to bed shortly afterwards, thinking I don't know why I want to cry, maybe I'm just over-tired.

The alarm went off and Great Big Sea was playing, then Joni Mitchell. I thought this augured well for the day. I went off in my car to teach the last class of the term at the University and tears came again. But I was alone in my car, and apparently, everything that was jumbling about in my mind sorted itself out. I decided what I need to do to stop feeling guilty about my work; I developed a plan to challenge myself on my skiing, and I came to the realization that a half-formed hope that I harboured really isn't part of my path to my North Star and that I need to let go. I also decided that, while almost everything I am doing, is positive, I want to start prioritizing and really focus on the activities that bring the most joy. Being a plus one in terms of happiness doesn't bring me as much joy as something that is plus 10. So, even though a few years ago a plus one activity would have been great, now I need to prioritize it lower than I used to. I am grateful that I do have so many things in my life that rate high on the joy scale and I want to make time to do and fully experience the ones that generate the greatest happiness for me rather than do everything.

And guess what? I came home from teaching and time opened up over the next few days. I suddenly do not feel overworked and feel that I have time to savour what I love.

Namaste,
Ginny