A disclaimer: this post is not about one of my catastrophically hilarious adventures on a bike. I haven't climbed on yet today, so the day still has potential.
I find it terribly easy to get focused in life. I want the perfect handouts for a presentation. I want to finish writing this essay and I want to edit it six times. I want to research all of the best Mexican restaurants in Durham and eat at all of them. If I want it, I give you my half-hearted blessings to attempt to convince me that I don't. I'm not changing my mind and I will convince you that it is in your best interest to want it for me, too. And then I am going to do it.
There are million and ten unhealthy points to this focused behavior. Potentially, there are an equal share of healthy ones. The point isn't really the health or unhealth of focused behavior, but that it exists in me and I can't get rid of it. Deep within the way I am wired is the potential to make people feel like they are interrupting my life's important work. This is a problem.
It has become especially problematic in my life because I recently moved away from a horde of solid and amazing friendships. They are friendships that are meaningful and important and that I hope to nurture, except that there are papers, Mexican restaurant scavenger hunts, and new friendships in need of attention. I don't function well with divided focus.
With this in mind, I have been pondering what it means to have a goal with the capacity to be interrupted. That is, the goal is designed to be flexible and malleable enough that it can be interrupted by a friend's goal or need, a Vietnamese food excursion, or bicycle catastrophe.
What does it mean to anticipate others' needs and life without anticipating the actual content of their needs or the change that life brings? How can I build within me a capacity to be interrupted, an ability to stop, listen, and respond even if my tacos are getting cold?
Am I patient enough? Am I generous enough? Am I loving enough?
I can try. I can try.