Think/act: Letting go

I haven't kept up on things. Blog things. Fitness things. Food things. A lot of things.

But this is about letting go. And not making excuses the whole way. Not looking back.

I've been tightly-wound my entire life. My mom loves to tell the story of an infant-me, stacking my blocks again and again, throwing a tantrum if the stack wasn't perfect. For anyone who knows me, it makes sense. The thing is, that compulsion has been my worst enemy, but it's also gotten me through some difficult times.

So, it's not about letting go of that part of myself entirely. What I want to do is learn to let go of the things that don't matter, to make sure my compulsions serve a purpose beyond make-work. I want to channel my relentlessness into the important things only. Do I really need to tackle cleaning the apartment with as much zest as I did my last semester of school? Of course not.

In other words, I'll never stop making to-do lists, but I want them to be less overwhelming, more enjoyable. I want to live my life with intention. I want to spend time on the things that matter and spend less time on the things that don't. I don't want to over-complicate needlessly, get myself overwhelmed before I've even began.

I'm writing this now because I'm at a strange time in my life. Grad school is behind me (for now). I'm not teaching this year (and I have mixed feelings on what I'm doing instead). I'm in a serious and good and important relationship. Real "adulthood," it feels like, is finally here. That's OK with me (most of the time). But I want to make sure I'm spending my soon-to-be limited time on what's important. I've frittered away a month of unemployment doing absolutely nothing. I needed it.

But now it's time to shake off my weird malaise about Change, and move forward.

I've been thinking this past month about what's really important to me, and this is what I want to focus on:

• Relationships. My schedule this summer let me spend time with loved ones in a way I've never been able to before. I've always known how important my friends and family were to me, but this summer showed me how sustaining something like a weekly "date" with my best friend can be.
• Solitude. I suppose it seems counter-intuitive, given the last point, but I also realize how important it is to take care of myself and spend time alone. There were weeks this summer where I was barely home. I missed my cat, my roommate, and my own time. I want to have a better balance.
• Creativity. I want to get better at writing. I've never pushed myself too hard -- I constantly refine old pieces, but they still all sound the same. I've got a style, but I don't work that hard at it. I need to kill my darlings. But even if it's not writing, I need to do something to channel my energies that grad school usually absorbed -- whether it's making things, writing down my thoughts, debating politics. I need to keep myself mentally entertained.
• Health. I had a pretty successful summer, in terms of health. But there were also some rough patches. My poor eating habits caught up to me, and I'm sick in about five different ways. I'm currently on a work-out hiatus thanks to some heavy-duty medication that gives me joint pain, double vision, and the risk of blowing out my tendons. As soon as I'm able to work out again, I plan on going at it with a renewed energy. I want to. Especially because, in two days, I won't have any health insurance.

I guess it's that simple. It's never that simple, of course, but I like distilling things to their basic ideas. It makes it easier for me to remember what's important.

And to let go of the rest.

Think/act: Clearing my head

Last week, I was lucky enough to give a talk at a teaching conference. I spent two days at a beautiful mansion-turned-conference-center, talking with other English instructors about different ideas to try out in the classroom. I spoke on ways we might reduce gender differences in class discussion. Both of my supervisors were there, along with a crowd from various local colleges and universities. I spoke in an intimidating, book-lined library.

The weather was beautiful: upper 70s and sunny the whole time. The conference atmosphere was very laid back, and we were encouraged to explore and socialize. I walked around the grounds with a group of people from my university the first night I arrived, and later went on a late-night walk with some of my friends and people from a local community college. The night walk was especially wonderful. We borrowed a couple of flashlights from the front desk. The sky was clear, the moon was bright, and we could hear owls and coyotes. We passed around a flask, and a couple of people had beer bottles in their pockets. Everything was relaxed and easy. Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I roamed around the grounds some more, walking down to the main house (we stayed in a guest house on the property) to get water and explore some more. I stood outside for a while, looked up at the stars.

The next day, after giving my talk, I took a solo hike out to see some of the incredible statues the original owner had sprinkled throughout the expansive grounds. I spent an hour exploring. I brought my iPod but chose to leave it off, and instead tried to focus on how beautiful my surroundings were. Everything couple of yards or so, a cloud of butterflies would lift off the ground and flutter around me, only to settle further down the road. It was warm enough that I rolled up my sleeves. It was unreal.

The room I stayed in was gorgeous, too. It was a room for three people, but I only shared it with one friend from my department. We each had our own bedroom area. There was exposed brick, bright windows, and a screened-in porch. I brought a rocking chair outside and sat under a huge tree, getting some reading done for my feminist theory class.

The food and company was great, too. There were four of us from my teaching cohort who stayed in the rooms next to each other. We left the doors to our rooms open most of the time, and moved back and forth, talking and drinking beer in the evening. We vented about teaching, and dating, and so many other things. We bounced ideas off of each other on the long car ride back home.

I spent a lot of time clearing my mind and sorting things out. I've often felt like I didn't know what I wanted to focus on in school. I've often wondered how everything -- all my interests -- might come together. I've often felt like I don't know anything, don't really have an emphasis. I like literature, sure, but was never sure how that might fit into everything else I do. Being at this conference made me realize I want to pursue teaching and tutoring methods that are influenced by feminist theory and good examples of writing, and that I've already started to do those things. It made me realize that I might even be good at those things. I love what I do, but until now, I've often wondered how the different elements of my academic life might come together. What will I do when I graduate? What are my goals?

Though I don't have all the answers, I was able to better appreciate what my strengths are. Getting good feedback on my presentation helped, and it was also great to hear what other people in my field are doing. The conference was inspiring and rejuvenating. I also remembered how important being outdoors is to me. I don't know that I could live in a big city for long. I'd much rather look outside and see mountains, forests, trees older than anything else around. If I could get paid to teach and tutor writing and literature somewhere out west or in the South, I'd be happy.

I wanted to write this all down so that I can remember how lucky I am to be surrounded by good people, even when I am often unhappy with the larger program. To remember that I do have an emphasis within my studies -- feminist pedagogy. And to remember how beautiful things -- especially the natural world -- can be.