Wanting More. Wanting Less

 

A chance question on a post about how has your summer been, in a one-word hashtag, to which I responded: #summerofwantingmorewantingless.

But what prompted that spontaneous response? What did I want more of? What did I want less of? I decided I’d try and break it down.

Want More of:

·       Writing time. More of feeling good about what I’ve written. More solid chunks where the fingers fly across the keyboard, producing words. But not just any words. Good words. Good sentences. Good paragraphs.

·       Quality time with people. Time where you’re not just talking AT each other, but TO each other and WITH each other. More sharing, less comparing.

·       Reading time. Although that’s expanded and exploded lately. And I’m happy with that. But more reading time is always a good thing.

·       Walking time. There have been days when it’s been too hot or too wet to walk. More beauty in the form of nature trails and old, shady trees with gnarly branches. More days where the air is clear and crisp. More Fall. Why not six months of it, with the remaining months equally divided between spring, summer, and winter.

·       Wandering Time. In both, body and mind. Time to wander to new places with no hurry, no agenda, no train or plane or bus to catch. Just wander and observe and ponder. More adventures and travel.

·       More Time in General. Time seems to be speeding up and slipping by. A frequent refrain as we age.

·       Painting time. I’ve been painting less this summer as my reading and writing has increased. But it’s never far from my mind that I want to pick up my paintbrush and play on the canvas. Instead, I play with words on a page.

Want Less of:

·       Wildfires and ecological disasters. What will we leave behind for future generations?

·       BS in general. There’s no shortage of it, from politicians and grocery store tycoons and people on the street or online, and sometimes it really, really irks me. Less Trumpeting.

·       Fretting about things lost. One thing I’ve noticed about aging is that I’m simply not as nimble as I used to be. It would be nice to be nimble again. Like a mountain goat.

·       Rejection. Part of being an older emerging writer is rejection. Lots of it. For younger ones too, I imagine. But I think when one is older, there’s a perception that you only have one book in you, and no writing career in the future. And while it may be true that we’re not after a ‘career’, we definitely have a lot of writing and words left in us.

·       Mundaneness. Like grocery shopping and cleaning and taking care of bills and appointments and getting your teeth cleaned. I know these mundane tasks should be welcomed, because it means that life is stable and you’re not fleeing your home because of approaching wildfires. And for that I’m grateful. I try to look at mundane tasks in that light, but it’s hard when you’ve got a toilet-bowl brush in your hand.

Wanting more, wanting less. Isn’t that how we spend a good part of our lives? Instead of wanting what we already have, which would be the secret to being happy and content.