For most of my adult life I’ve asked myself meaningful questions as one year comes to a close and the next arrives. Meaningful is a big deal in the world of me. I thrive in that thoughtful space.
But the last few years I’ve also learned the importance of lightness, how it gives some nice balance to weightier goals. So now I try on questions like this one:
What have you been meaning to do for a long time that you haven’t done?
In my head, this isn’t asked with the intent of getting answers like ‘get a master’s degree’ or ‘take a trip around the world.’ Those are lofty and, of course, wonderful goals. But I’m thinking more along the lines of reading a classic novel, buying new knobs for the kitchen cabinets, or getting that souvenir print that’s been sitting in a drawer professionally framed.
These are the things that make us feel momentarily excited or gratified. The enrichment of great art, the joy of a simple aesthetic change, a memory saved for a lifetime.
I have to be careful sometimes to not let a list of these come pouring out because before I know it I’ve created obligations, or worse, things to lord over myself. No, no. That’s not the point.
It’s actually about subtle diversion, the creation of space, and maybe a tiny moment of satisfaction at seeing something completed.
Ahhhhhhhh.
With all that said, I must confess that sometimes the lightness can have a major impact on those weightier goals. I rarely set out with that intent, but many whose art form is, say, writing or drawing find it incredibly invigorating to step away to cook or garden or engage the creative work of another. It stimulates the senses or gives us pause to breathe and oftentimes that’s when ideas bubble to the surface.
Again, it’s partly about creating space for whatever wants to come in. Maybe it really is about putting new buttons on a jacket and nothing more. Task completed. How lovely and it feels brand new. Golden silence.
But, like those unlikely times in the shower or walking down the street when creative lightning strikes, the task might also be the impetus for ideas. We don’t plan it. It just happens.
This brings me to 2015. Nearly 20 years ago I bought a gorgeous antique two-volume set of Anna Karenina. As I write this, it sits on my dresser with a beautiful Waterford Crystal clock on top. But guess what? Tolstoy didn’t write a classic to act as a pedestal for my fancy clock. And I’m not fond of the idea of having it displayed prominently in my home when I haven’t even read it. That’s right, I haven’t read it.
Question: What have I been meaning to do for a long time that I haven’t done?
Answer: Read Anna Karenina.
I’m thinking maybe starting the year reading it will propel other things forward.
Or not.
Some literary nourishment will suffice. Lightness is enough.
By Nancy Colasurdo
