For me, this isn’t really the case when it comes to the pesky little tasks many people seem to enjoy putting off. If I see that the trash is full, I immediately take it out and replace the bag. If my laundry’s done drying, I fold it on the spot, rather than leave it for later after everything gets crumpled and wrinkles set in. These little responsibilities – the minutiae of life - I’ve already made habit of, and I’ve learned to take pleasure in taking care of small business in a swift manner. A chore like vacuuming can even help me relieve stress.
Being human, though, and thus (very) flawed, I sometimes encounter inner resistance when it comes to the big things.
To illustrate, here’s a list of things I should be doing that right now are probably more urgent than writing this blog entry:
1 Work on my StartingBloc Fellowship application (due 11/30)
2 Work on an idea for my application to The Unreasonable Institute
3 Work on my book
4 Aggressively market this blog. Unfortunately for us non-salesy types, King Content is powerless if He has no subjects. (ie if you never lay eyes on this)
Writing itself is difficult enough, but if I were being honest with myself, I probably could have finished this entry by now if I’d been under a time crunch. Which means I should have been able to finish it by now anyway.
When I find myself in a lazy rut that I can’t immediately get out of, I often head for the gym or go for a run – a cheap way to assuage my guilt over putting off the big things. I mean, who can knock health-consciousness? Answer: Not even your own conscience can knock health-consciousness.
Usually when I opt for the run, I prefer a sprint workout over longer jogs for the brevity and high-intensity they offer. I hadn’t been on a long-distance run in quite some time, until a few mornings ago I put on my running kicks and headed towards Waltham Common, a decent distance from the Brandeis campus, maybe 2 miles or so.
The moment I arrived at the Common, I remembered why I revere this place – why earlier this fall I ran there every morning before 7AM. If you’ve never been there, I’ll give a brief description so you can picture the scene a bit.
Waltham Common is basically a park, filled with trees, a few memorials and statues, several benches, a bandstand, and what looks like a little lovers’ enclave in one corner. Enclosing it on its four sides are Main St (the main commercial street in Waltham), Moody St, Elm St, and Carter St. During the summers, free concerts are supposedly held there each week by a different musical act. (I say supposedly because I’m a recent transplant to the area and haven’t been to any)
In the center of the park there are two concentric circles of red brick tiles in the ground. Etched into the bricks are soldiers’ names, and dates. Nearby, a sign reads,
Circle of Remembrance
A place for remembering those who sacrificed to keep you free.
Please respect it.
Inside the inner circle there stands a ring of six flagpoles, arranged in a hexagon. Flags fly for the Coast Guard, the Air Force, the Marine Corps, the Navy, MIA/POWs, and for the Army. Final color tally: two white, two blue, one black, one red.
In the center of this solemn ring of flagpoles stands one final flagpole – for the flag of The United States of America.
Five paths radiate outward from this center circle, like rays of the sun. Whenever I finish my run (I always end with a brief kick), I cross Moody St, take the path closest to me of the five, and approach the center circle. Even though passerbys – runners, strollers, running moms with strollers – often cross through the center of the circle, I’ve always felt an enormous reluctance to do so, as if I would be intruding on a sacred space. So I stop, just outside the outer circle, and begin my stretching routine, culled from my days playing ultimate on my high school team.
I know this routine by heart. I’ve done it so many times, both with the team and by myself, that I don’t even have to think about it. It’s just ingrained into my muscle memory. So this post-run stretch is really one of the best times for me to meditate –with the endorphins flooding my body, itself warm and loose.
As I sat stretching on the ground that day, warm butt upon the cool ground beneath me, it hit me strong – why I do the things I do, why I am the way I am. Why I motivate myself every day to be better than the day before.
Take a look around you right now. It doesn’t matter where you are. Just do it.
Take a look at the computer screen in front of your face (I assume you are reading this on a computer). The table or surface that supports the computer. The clothes on your body that you’ve become so accustomed to, you hardly notice they’re there. The walls of the room that shelter you. The very floor that supports your weight.
All of these things came with a price.
Yes, you (or someone else) may have paid for them with your hard-earned money. But the price was far greater than that.
Think of the countless before you who struggled on the behalf of mankind – on your behalf.
Think of the scientists and engineers who put in sweat and hours to envision and create the technology for you to read this blog. Think of the leaders of the world – and equally importantly, the citizens of the world – who fought to establish and maintain the peace you have right now to sit and read in leisure.
Think of the fallen soldiers and the defiant rebels who built this country for you, and who continue to protect and defend your basic liberties. When you hear sirens wail, think of the unnamed heroes who provide the essential services for your community – firefighters, police, EMTs. These people are heroes every single day, not just on the anniversary of 9/11.
I’m not advocating that you walk around every day making everyday decisions with historical events in mind. Nor should you feel guilty about or regret your abundance. Guilt and regret are largely useless, and to a certain extent even selfish.
Unless you use them to fuel positive change.
The other day in my car, the song “Sunday Bloody Sunday” by U2 came on the radio. If you’ve never heard this song and have some free time, check it out. There’s a great live version on YouTube – just type in “Sunday Bloody Sunday (Rattle and Hum)."
The song describes “the horror felt by an observer of The Troubles in Northern Ireland, mainly focusing on the Bloody Sunday incident in Derry where British troops shot and killed civil rights marchers.” (thanks Wikipedia) Bono’s voice lends the lyrics some powerful emotion.
The fact is, every day is a Sunday Bloody Sunday.
The fierce urgency of now that Martin Luther King, Jr. described in his “I Have a Dream” speech is just as relevant in today’s now as it ever was, and it always will be this way, at least during our lifetimes.
That morning at Waltham Common, those flags served me a powerful reminder that what I have is precious and sacred. I remembered that so much of what I have is due to the striving and sacrifice of others, and that I have the potential and even the responsibility to do the same for future generations.
And so now, whenever I need a shot of motivation, I just picture Waltham Common on a beautiful fall day.
Or, if I’m free, I slip on my Nikes.
-David
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