One thing I’ve learned about setting goals in life is that sometimes you hit them and sometimes you miss.
I’ve been trying, as Anne Lamott prescribes, to “put down 300 words a day.” It’s really not hard to do. In fact, if I can put myself in one spot for 10-15 minutes, I can typically make it happen. I might not say anything profound, but that’s not the goal right now. The goal is to merely put down 300 words a day until something happens.
Still, like any other goal, if I want to hit it, I’ve at least got to take aim.
I tried on Friday — I used my thumbs to write what I thought was about 300 words while walking on my lunch hour — I felt that I rambled on and on, but when I got a chance to log-on to my laptop, I discovered that I hadn’t even reached the 200-word mark!
I’ve got to admit — it was a half-hearted attempt. If I’d been serious, I would’ve taken my pro stance, lined up my sights, and zeroed in on my target. Instead, I was walking, bent over my phone, and probably trying to show off a little.
Over the weekend, I stepped out of the box altogether, put down all my weapons, and took in my surroundings.
I had conversations and collaborated on decisions. I completed the mundane (groceries and laundry) and the monumental (joining my husband in selling a house). I laughed until my guts hurt as my son told a story and wept soft tears of lingering grief as I strolled down memory lane. I sprawled on the floor to watch a movie and sat at a table to watch my daughter talk to my mother. All weekend, I drank in the fullness of life.
And now, at four o’clock in the morning, I find myself pointing once again at my target.
Hit or miss? We’ll see.
Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on…