At the break of the day

What it means to begin, again.

For me it is the way the air smells ….

Some folks say it is the light. Others reference the leaves. 

Are you in touch with what the birds are doing and when? The end of Summer habits of bees? 

These seasonal shuffling are not beyond me – I having a “nose” exclusively for the aroma of moisture, the whiff of the wind.  We use the word “crisp” when speaking of Autumn for a very good reason: because it is true. My nostrils say so! 

Nonetheless, the experience is far from refreshing. Chilly temps and new cardigans give me anxiety. Pending frost nipping too early at my ear. Swansong of Summer recreation (though this Summer has been underwhelming on that front for fucking sure!).

As the breeze kicks up, the cooler air makes me older and all too aware of what is and what is very much NOT done.  As the ever-shorter days pass, my will power wains. In an iron maiden made of flannel, Converse, oatmeal puckered socks, and a cast of beanies too vast to believe, I march towards my worst habits. Over scheduling, late nights, and self-criticism. Faking “can do”, feeling a HARD “hell no”.

You know that dream when the curtain is going up and you’re not wearing pants, and you can’t recall your lines? Or missed the first day of class? Forgot there was a test or are yelling a warning and no one hears you? That is what this time of year feels like for me: the ‘get ready’ smell of putrid failure.

Flash to ground zero at the Bullock Household: Bed. This is not an erotic event encounter. This scene is all about snuggles. Wine and whiskey, too many cats, one dog, two adults, books, devices, sweats, and homemade mud masks – his and hers alike.

My handsomer half turns to me: “Are you taking on too much?”

Ugh? I take a sip. There is mud on my glass. I think. I pause. I think and I say: “I guess we will see …”

A signature TMB reply if there ever was one! She is an over-correcting superstar. She shoots first and rests later. Taking on as a means of taking control.

As the world turns in medical and civil chaos. The walls come down and groundswell shakes – to positive end in a pandemic of ill and evil. My grasping tendencies kick up like a show pony with a bee buzzing about its stall. Yee Haw!

The risks are REAL! Envision a body running through a professional forest. Arms and legs akimbo, she is chased by her own manic ego. Fair victim to a chainsaw of excess. My bloody body slaps the concrete. Won’t you know I act surprised – like this has never happened before. Whoopsie.

My consciousness losing consequences are REAL! The symptoms of sloppy fear informed business for me look like this:

·      Emails peppered with typos;

·      Pimples in weird places;

·      Weight loss (shut up!):

·      Sinful e-spending:

·      Painful sleep:

·      Domestic intolerance and partner argument:

·      Worse:  a stain on my voice of need.

Dark angels of impatience. A most terrible golem – molded by the two hands that type these very sentences.  

Reader: If you do not relate, either to obtuse effort or its shadow sister of stagnation…Well, I don’t what to do with you.  However, if you are human – if the blood of a desired self-betterment is bright inside you – READ ON. 

The problem, a paradox really, before us is to assess and address the universal binary of obtuse productivity and responsibility inebriation, or paralysis and ambition atrophy.

Complex? No, not conceptually, that is. The middle. The damned middle is where it is at. Now where is that? And how do we maintain such a lovely and light thing?

Roll with me here: the answer goes back to the seasons and our associations with time. We offer, as our kin and culture inspire, referenced emotions and actions to and with the time with external signifiers as internalized cues. For example, consider the back-to-school anticipation, late December stress, and February doldrums. The joy we feel with the May reemergence. 

These are natural realities and human rituals. This, to buoy the ball or your business-day self between goal posts of best practice; you need only to make yourself markers.

Question:

What starts the day?

·      Coffee maker?

·      Jog?

·      Shower?

·      Tryst in the kitchen (knife play NOT OK!)

·      Taking out the dog and garbage? 

Think of these as the turning of a leaf. Or ringing of a sleigh bell. This is how you launch yourself out of the gate of a given Tuesday, moving from your mug, to your desk (couch) to “log on”.

Now, get FUCKING specific tips:

·      Look back on your list: schedule, tasks, dessert list

·      Re-HANDwrite it – it was composed last night and may no longer fly

·      Look at your GCal and make associated edits

·      Do NOT look at social media unless that is your job

·      Do look at your inbox and, BEFORE READING, organize notes by necessity. Define your to-dos by deadlines others are expecting your performance on.

·      I recommend spending no more than 45 minutes on start of the day admin. Taking a pee break, caffeine reup, and then dive into a similar set of time for communication aims. 

These are not to-dos: they are sacred space instigators. Make these your markers. 

The above are examples of brass-tacks boundaries. Discipline is like any practice: you have to choose it and try it. Get strict and specific. Inspiration is a lot about getting started, just get started. Set yourself up to start – even if you hate it (that is not relevant). Just start. Just start. Just start.

Boundaries are tricky, but can bring out the most beautiful bounty. I sometimes refer to this tactic as “act like an Olympian” or “What Would an Olympian do?” Say no more- the answer is to be.

Big and a lot of nuance here, but start with this:

What is the break of the day in your professional planet?  

When are you open to being on the record?