Some of you reading this will want to hit me over the head with your Day-Timers(c) when I say this, but the fact is that I have altogether too much control over my time. I work from home, my only child is 20 years old, and my husband is a laid-back kind of guy. Don’t get me wrong: 1) I have lots to do, and 2) I’m not complaining. It’s just that I get to choose when to do most of the things I have to do. And I’m very, very bad at making those choices. Why is that? Because I’m what Gretchen Rubin calls an “obliger.” I will kill myself meeting an outside deadline because I respond readily to others’ expectations. But I have a terrible time responding to my own.
So, for instance, I stepped up and volunteered to coordinate the receptions after the Friday-night concerts for the Cherry Creek Chorale, and then, as if that weren’t enough, I also volunteered to write essays on the historical and literary background of the selections we sing. (You can read those essays here.) The Friday-night receptions are on . . . Friday nights. If the preparations aren’t done, people will be pouring in the doors and there will be no food or punch. If I don’t get my essays written on time, the “teaser” question won’t be included in the weekly member announcement e-mail. The daily e-mails for this and other blogposts go out weekdays at 5:00. (But I just went in and changed it to 7:00 for today so I can get this done.) Most days I meet that deadline. I have Bible Study Fellowship class every Wednesday morning, and I never, ever want to come without having done my study questions because then I’m not really supposed to participate in the discussion. And that would kill me! So I get those done.
Goals that are set only for myself, though, are a whole horse of a different color. This is a non-rehearsal week for the Chorale because we had our concert last week. So my personal goal was to work on the Beethoven’s 9th choral movement every day this week and get it close to memorized. We are singing that piece with the Arapahoe Symphony Orchestra the week after our own concert in May, so it’s going to be very challenging to get it learned. How many days have I worked on it? Three, I think. It’s nowhere near memorized. And yet . . . I love this piece. I want to know it by heart. Here’s the thing, though: What will happen if I don’t learn it? Basically nothing. I won’t get kicked out of the Chorale. I’ll probably muddle through it just fine. But I won’t be nearly as happy about the performance as I would be if I could stand up there singing my heart out not having to look at the score. And this is just a small example of an unmet personal goal. A much bigger one is to spend a certain amount of time every day working on my next book, Intentional Love. I’m excited about it. I have my usual treasure trove of scribbled-upon scraps of paper. I’m doing a ton of reading and thinking, and thoughts are sparking all over the place. But I need to work on it regularly and write all those ideas down. (Great scene from a great movie, Amadeus, which I certainly hope you’ve seen at least once. Not the R-rated director’s cut, though! Anyway, Schikaneder, the owner of the comic opera house that is producing Mozart’s Magic Flute, comes to Mozart’s apartment to get the score and is told, “It’s all right here in my noodle. The rest is just scribbling. Scribbling and bibbling, bibbling and scribbling.” Schikaneder is understandably upset. “Write it down,” he says, thrusting a handful of papers in Mozart’s face. “It’s no good to anybody in your head.” Wish I had a Shikaneder!)
More on this subject to come. The secret to self-discipline is to know yourself and then work within the limitations of your own nature. For me accountability is key. I know that. Now I just need to set up the systems that will put that in place. Otherwise my days go by without my having done what I said I’d do. And, as I pointed out in my book, a key to happiness is keeping the promises that you make to yourself.