Tentative Liberty

I'm a perfectionist, I admit it. I like things to be ordered, structured, neat and tidy. I like my life planned, programmed and efficient. I like to squeeze out the most work, wit and wisdom from every single day; taking the maxim, "live every day of your life" very, very literally.

But I also have unconsciously subscribed to the "good little girl" theory of following the rules. I have it set in my head that the universe works in one prescribed way and that if I simply follow the rules of the universe, that all will be well. The rules are not always pettish and placid, sometimes they are incredibly iconoclastic, but rules they are nonetheless. But I have a tendency to make "the rules" king. And then sit wondering why things did not turn out the way "the rules" said they would. I get disillusioned with the reaction from my action. Energy expended doesn't always bloom into desired results... Seems even Newton wasn't always right.

But to paraphrase Lewis, there are things I ought to do, things I have to do and things I want to do. "Ought" is being polite, patient, loyal and devoted. "Have" is going to work, doing laundry and paying bills. "Want" is generally reading, playing, creating and socializing.

Lewis himself was also a highly structured person. He liked the predictability of schedules in institutional time. But he drew strict lines around his "ought", "have" and "want" time, taking pains to do nothing during his "want" time that was simply a conventional "ought". He avoided reading books he disliked simply because they were popular or even recommended. His filled his "want" time with things that were precisely that. He understood that "want" time was precious, as was life in general.

Lewis said that when he was an adolescent, he would have been mortified to have been found reading faerie stories, but as an adult read them openly. He proposed that when he became a man he put away childish things -- including the fear of looking childish. The fact that he lectured at Oxford, wrote brilliant discourse and apology and created the Narnia stories from such a sensible view speaks for itself, I think.

I have no problem gaping at Gennady Spirin (the most lush and illuminating illustrator of children's books); reading the Grimm fairy tales to the teasing and poking of my husband; skipping certain lectures from the Teaching Company on my iPod simply because they cover an author in whom I haven't the slightest interest; avoiding social functions that are clearly a waste of time; watching anything on television without TiVo; and popping a DVD out of the player or even walking out of a theater if a movie is horrid.

But I have a hard time not expending energy wondering why things on which I've worked so hard have not had the desired results. I get disillusioned, knowing I'm doing everything by "the rules" but the outcomes have been less than satisfying. I realize that a certain dissatisfaction is healthy, it keeps one pushing toward higher and higher goals. But what if the goal I have set is unrealistic in the first place? When do I step back and shrug peacefully, content with where I am? In other words, when do I take back my "want" time that is being stolen by worry and frustration?

Now. In print. I am not the Messiah that I might save myself. I am mortal, imperfect, limited and real. I live, I breathe and I dream. But I refuse to have one more second stolen from me trying to achieve something that is unachievable.

I am maximizing my "want" time. I am shrugging peacefully... tentatively.