I love lists. Making lists is fantastic. They keep things in front of me instead of behind me. They keep things visible. But there's a catch. Every time I make a list of stuff to do, I introduce handfuls of wavy lines into my smooth, unobstructed timeline. But it's not the list itself, is it? The list is just a record of the stuff. It's the stuff. The to-dos. Those goddamn to-dos. I imagine this problem only afflicts those industrious types like us who always want to feel useful, so if you're a garden slug or couch sloth you can skip ahead I guess. Come to think of it, what are you doing here? Beat it.
Our personal timeline begins as a flat, level path.
If we experienced nothing our entire lives, the line would remain at level zero until we died of old age, natural disaster, or boredom. But we don't experience nothing. Instead, we make plans. When a plan executes, our timeline elevates slightly. That's growth. We want to get from our current level to whatever level the next experience grants us. Each experience represents a different amount of growth. The more growth, the higher the line. But we can't just jump up to the next line. We have to build a ramp. We have to build a ramp of to-dos from the current line to the next. To do that, we have to compile a list of to-dos commensurate with the plan at hand. However, each to-do is a jagged line so we can't plant our feet until the task it represents is complete.
When we check the box, the jaggy line smooths out and forms a tiny section of the ramp allowing us to proceed. Up and up we go as we complete our to-dos until the final section of the ramp connects. Now the path we walk is higher than it was before and we walk straight and level until we find a new experience to plan.
When everything is humming along, the path is breezy and our minds are clear. The growth possibilities are endless. However, if you're anything like me, you start new things before you finish the current ones. Then, you start newer new things before you finish the old new things. And on it goes, until soon your timeline looks like this:
This situation is...suboptimal. What's more, growth and experience are compounding. So the more jaggy lines you leave out there, the more missed opportunities there are to tack on another level to your timeline. If we look at that same timeline, but with all the to-dos checked and behind us, it produces something a little more like this:
That's a lot more like it.
One of the hardest parts of wanting to make progress is preventing the self-inflicted foot-shooting that occurs when I barrage my to-do list with an impossible amount of tasks. But I think as long as some of these longer-term ideas are abstract enough, they can live in the background as gentle reminders instead of five-alarm fires. This provides a nice mental buffer to keep from getting overwhelmed and allows me to focus solely on the next jaggy line in the timeline. And nothing beats the satisfaction of shaping those jaggies into a smooth, sexy section of ramp and strolling right up to the next level.
Thanks so much for reading! See you all next week 👋🏻
Do This Next
Share this essay with someone you thought about while you were reading. Tell them in a few words what made them pop into your head. If you didn't think of anyone, I commend you on your powers of focus and attention. Please, teach me your ways. In the meantime, share it with someone who enjoys stuff like this. Whatever it is you think "this" is.
Last Week's Photo
I don’t talk much about the photography I use for my essays, but I thought it would be interesting to include the story behind the images and why I chose them to represent each essay. Also, since they’re usually abstract macro photos, I decided it would be nice to answer any lingering curiosities about what the hell you’re actually looking at.
This is my sister. I could be pedantic and clarify this is not, in fact, my sister, but merely a photographic representation of my sister. But I won't do that to you. Not now. Not after all we've been through. Anyway, last week's essay was about breaking glass, but rather than take a hammer to my office window at 6 am, I decided I'd get by with something a little more intact. A quick perusal of my surroundings produced this picture frame with the convenient feature of easy glass removal. So I borrowed my sister from her station below my everyday calendar, slid the glass out about an inch, and Bob's yer uncle. I don't know what that means, but I do love saying it.
Future Topics I'm Thinking About Thinking About
Timing:
<Seinfeld>
What's the deal with timing?</Seinfeld>
The three best things in my life are all a result of great timing. I'm not that good, so am I just that lucky?
Big Ass Trees:
There's something about living amongst 100ft trees that helps supply perspective on what doesn't matter. i.e., these things have been here a century or more. They're still keeping on. Things are probably gonna be ok.
Doing Things a Second Time:
Getting my second publication Formula Onederful off the ground was an order of magnitude faster than my first. Let's explore why.
Which one should I tackle first? Drop me a comment below.