Monday Musings: The Long and Short of It

I've been thinking about J. Alfred Prufrock quite a bit lately. He's an old friend of mine, whose words I re-visit often. And more than ever, it seems like I am measuring out my life in coffee spoons. It's a necessary evil of being the mom to a newborn that the world becomes small, and that life gets parsed out into 3 hour intervals. I should be used to it. But even now, going through it for the third time, I find myself baffled by how monotonous and commonplace life can seem at one moment...and then how grand it can seem the next...

We all want to be these amazing parents, we all have these wonderful hopes and dreams for our children and can envision picturesque scenes of what family will look like 10 years down the road. But, for now, we are nursing children, pureeing vegetables, agonizing over "play based" versus "academic" preschools.

We all want to be wise. Soulful. Grounded. We all want perspective. These are our lofty, long-term goals.

But, in day to day life, we get angry, we are short-sighted. We "sweat the small stuff"...

How to balance the goals we have for ourselves as the people we hope to become, and the challenges and mundanity of the everyday?

On the eliptical machine last week (for the first time in, oh, 2 years...!), I was thinking about perspective. Taking a step back and seeing the bigger picture. Perhaps I was influenced by the Zen-like 60-somethings at my gym who exercise for joy as opposed to me who just wants to fit into my jeans! I don't know, but for some reason I found myself thinking about our vantage points on the world, our frames of reference, and how we go about achieving perspective on our surroundings. To me, it comes down to short term versus long term...

In the short term, this recession sucks. It is oppressive and it is sapping our contemporaries not only of money but also of hope. But, in the long term--we are likely gaining an appreciation for the things that matter--friends and family, most of all--in a way we can't even articulate yet. (Plus, according to every analysis of the recession that you read, people are "staying in" more and playing tons of board games...which, in my book, is always a good thing...bring on the Scrabble...!)

In the short term, breaking D.'s horrible eating habits and, as a byproduct, watching him not eat for meals at a time is breaking my heart. In the long term we will all be happier.

In the short term, nursing my baby seems shackling. Long term, I know I will be proud that I was able to do it and--who knows--I might miss the feeling of her little body against mine.

In the short term, I am itching to DO SOMETHING. In the long term: I know I will.


I came upon an article recently that set forth a "process" by which to make decisions and it sort of dovetails with the long term/short term divide that sprung from my 29 1/2 minutes at the gym. The process is called the 10-10-10 model. When you are confronting a choice, you ask yourself: How will my decision affect me in 10 minutes; 10 months; 10 years.

Should I have that second (fifth) glass of wine? In ten minutes: Yes I would be glad that I did. In ten months: Who will remember this night. In ten years: Seriously? Decision: Have it...!

Okay, seriously: Should I embark upon a new and slightly scary business venture. In ten minute: I will feel uncomfortable and fish out of water. In ten months: I will be stretched even thinner than now and might be frantic. In ten years: If it works out I will be so happy and proud that I took the plunge. Decision: Hmmm...

Try it. For real, just try it. Should you take the pay cut for the job you love? Should you splurge on the concert tickets? Should you go out or work on that novel?

10 minutes, 10 months, 10 years...

If you're thinking that this "model" seems simplistic--I agree. But, the hook of the article introducing it tugged me in: "Have you ever gotten the feeling that you're not living your life--it's living you?" Yes, yes I have. Plus, for me, the gimmick just works. It's a template to superimpose onto situations and that lends a structure to large and amorphous things. Which for me is good. And which, for me leads to that magical land called perspective.

Let us go then, you and I...