Rainy Days, To-Do Lists, and Other Excuses

Legitimate excuses, I might add

Hiking is one of my very favorite things. Still, there are times when the hardest part of my hike is talking myself into going and getting myself to the trailhead. 

Last weekend was like that. There were errands to run. Floors to mop. Vegetables to transplant in the garden. A multitude of deferred tasks that had accumulated through the week like the dust bunnies under the midcentury modern console that still needs to be sanded down and oiled. And on top of the mountain of tasks, there was rain in the forecast. 

Going for a hike just because I like it? Just because I want to? That makes it hard to prioritize. It's tough to shake off the years of familial and cultural conditioning that say a "good day" is only one that has numerable accomplishments. 

The best strategy I’ve come up with to combat that mental block is to leverage that perfectionistic tendency. My to-do list now has two columns. One one side (longer and less exciting) are the tasks necessary to keep myself alive and functioning for another week. On the other are the things that feed my soul. Hiking. Writing. Creating art. Reaching out to friends. 

As a tactic to get me outside, it works, but to keep it from becoming just another stressful have-to, I think it’s important to practice noticing the joy that it brings. Like all my life lessons, this is one that I have to learn frequently: it’s almost always worth the investment of time and energy to get outside. It’s like my optimism lives on the mountain, that half my brain is in my feet: by getting myself out the door and onto the trail, I can loosen up not just my joints and muscles, but my mind. Some of that comes from the time to think freely, to set my brain to beat in time with my feet and see what patterns emerge. Some of it comes from the surprising evolution of the trail itself. The mock orange that is still holding its buds closed tight, the marmots scampering between burrows, the hills blue with lupine, a surprise patch of Indian Paintbrush. 

Sometimes I catch myself thinking how lucky it is that I took a certain path. But it’s a funny kind of luck, because I suspect that I would have been just as ”lucky“ if I had turned left instead of right, that there would have been serendipitous finds no matter which path I took. Some of that is a matter of building the muscles of attention and appreciation. But I have to say that I’ve never had that sensation when it came to washing the windows. 

So if you get caught up in the productivity hamster wheel, too, here’s the reminder that I often have to give myself: All of your life and self deserves care and attention. Add seeking joy, in whatever form that takes, to your own to-do list.

And full disclosure—it’s not a cure-all. I may have gotten the vegetables in the ground last weekend, but the dust bunnies are still lurking under the cabinets and beds, fluffier than ever. But on the mountain I reclaimed an equilibrium that, with luck, will equip me to do battle with them someday soon.