Speaking of lists, this morning as I started writing one, I decided that I HATE lists. They make me feel too grounded, as if what is on them is the most important thing in my whole wide world. Actually, lists have never been a big part of my routine. If there is something I have to remember, I write a word or two on a piece of paper and put it by the sink in the bathroom or on the floor by my bed—right in my face. If I’ve run out of coffee, or something really important, I jot it down on a scrap of paper and stuff it in my pocket. But from time to time I can fall into the trap of list making, and so I am starting my New Year’s resolutions a few days early this year—NO LISTS. Already my life feels simpler.
Please, I realize that some of you are proud and proficient makers and users of lists, and that your lists relieve your stress and help you live simply. My point is that we each examine the little things in our lives, all those little habits, and see what makes us hold our breath too long or clinch our fists so our knuckles become white, and what allows us to give a sigh of relief or let our hands drop limp in our lap. You’ll know which one to choose.