Last week, I gave my students the following question to address in their classroom journals: What activities do you love? Why? What activities do you loathe? Why? This afternoon, as I walked my dogs, I pondered how I might have answered this question had I been sitting in the position of one of my pupils. While I couldn't stop thinking of things I loved to do, I found thinking of activities I disliked slightly harder. This is, I realized, because we define ourselves more by what we love to do than by what we hate to do. It is also because we more often engage in those activities we love than in those we loathe. Upon this epiphany (however obvious it may seem), I was reminded of a quote by someone famous (whose name I should know but don't and could look up but won't -- not right now, anyway). It is simple: "We are what we repeatedly do." It goes on to talk about the fact that "excellence, then, is a habit" or something along those lines. What struck me, though, at this particular moment, was the concept that what we do really does define us -- the whole actions-speak-louder-than-words thing. Of course, before I go on, I have to stop here to list the things I, personally, love and loathe to do -- and to ask you to consider the things that you love and loathe to do -- those activities that help define you.
List of My Most Loved (and Most Frequently Engaged In) Activities:
1. Walking my dogs. I do this every day, at least twice a day. I love walking my dogs for several reasons. One of the most obvious is the fact that I love my dogs. Walking them is not only good for me, but is also good for them. I love to see how happy and animated they are on their walks -- sniffing everything, listening to everything, taking note of things I can't even sense, greeting every other pedestrian we meet with assumed affection and friendship. I feel like each time I take them on a walk, I am giving them a little adventure. I also love walking them because I love being outside. The three of us walk rain or shine, hot or cold, windy or calm, light or dark. We are all-weather walkers. We appreciate all seasons, all temperatures, all times of day. While they sniff and snort and trot on the ends of their leashes, I breathe in the fresh smell of spring or the cold air of winter. I listen to the birds chirping in the trees. I take note of the shadows of naked tree branches outlined in moonlight on the asphalt. I think about what lies ahead for me today, or reflect on what already happened. Another reason I love to walk my dogs is because it makes me feel more connected to my neighborhood. You can observe and notice so much more walking than you can driving. Because of my walks, I know what neighbors drive what cars, have what dogs, live in what houses, work what jobs, have what kids, love what sports teams. I can even tell you when some of them get up in the morning or leave for work each day. Walking gives me the luxury to notice these things and to meet these people. I just love when I am out and about and someone in the store or at the post office or at the restaurant recognizes me simply because she has seen me walking my dogs in the neighborhood.
2. Running. I used to hate running. I really thought it was just for people who thrived on physical pain. I simply could not understand why anyone would voluntarily submit herself to such grueling torture. Now, though, there are many reasons I run. One reason, I think, is actually because I used to hate it. I would never have expected myself to be a runner -- and I love contradicting expectations (this will be evident in much of the rest of my list). It makes me feel free, alive, strong, capable. It lets me sort out my day, sort out my thoughts, get away from the rest of the world for a bit. I prefer to run outside, so I can enjoy the weather, the breeze, the sun, the drizzle, the birds, my music, the feel of snowflakes melting on my skin, the sound of tennis shoes on pavement. It is a simple release. Running has also proven a great way for me to spiritual strides.
3. Writing. I don't get to write as much as I'd like to, but I do honestly love it. There is nothing like stringing together just the right combination of words so that they express just what you were feeling or thinking. A poet I read in high school compared it to the feeling a baseball player gets when he feels and hears the smack of the ball in his glove. (Actually, I remember thinking the poem as a whole was kind of crappy -- but that comparison has always stuck with me for its accuracy.) I write for just that instant -- that instant where the words become the true emotion -- or at least the truest form expressible in words.
4. Mountain Biking.
5. Going to Pony Pasture and/or the Beach. Who doesn't like this? I get to relax, be outside, read, write, sleep, swim, think, appreciate the beauty and grace and originality of nature.
6. Reading my students' journals. Of all the writing assignments I give my students, my favorite ones to read are their journal entries. Through their journal entries, I learn more about who they are, what they want, what they think, etc.
7. Doing things ahead of time. Case in point: I have already started my 2011 Christmas letter. I have already made the yearbook ladder for the 2012 yearbook. I have already made tentative lesson plans for the 2011-2012 school year. I have made meal plans for at least the next week -- sometimes I even know what's for dinner in two weeks. You see, I have always been relatively Type A, and of all the things I am sure my seventh grade science teacher attempted to teach me, this is what I remember the most (aside from drawing rotten fish meat infested with maggots to illustrate something having to do with the Scientific Method): Never ever put off until tomorrow what can be done today. If you find yourself with spare time today, start on any of tomorrow's activities that can reasonably be started today. I pretty much live my life by this philosophy. Sometimes I even make all my lunches for the week on Sunday night so that I won't have to worry about it Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday night.
8. Volunteering. I love the feeling of giving. "Freely ye have received, freely give." There is nothing more rewarding or fulfilling. Currently, I volunteer at the Richmond Animal League (RAL) every other Friday and I simply love it.
9. Shooting at the shooting range. Sometimes this terrifies me, but that is part of why I love to do it. In addition, it is an activity no one would peg me to like or be any good at (which often I am not; I am not very consistent in my talent for this sport). Plus, it is empowering.
10. Going to church. The sense of calm, guidance, protection, and confidence I gain from going to church to support my spirituality is priceless.
Of course there are many more activities, I like, but this is getting maybe a little long. Like I said last week, I am a wind bag. So, let us move on.
List of Activities I Don't Exactly Love:
1. Bathing my dogs. They hate it. I feel like they think I am punishing them every time I give them a bath. In addition, it makes a huge mess. Water, mud, and dog hair end up everywhere: the floor, the wall, the bathroom rug, my clothes, the towel. It's just an all-round not-fun activity, albeit somewhat amusing.
2. Riding rollercoasters. I can actually do this if the coaster isn't too tall -- but usually it is.
3. Cooking dinner. I don't exactly dislike this, but it's just a chore -- and I much prefer the eating to the cooking.
So, my question for you, as you know is this: What activities define you? Who are you?
Which brings me to my next query: How did you get here?
Earlier this week (maybe it was yesterday or the day before), I was waking my dogs when I glanced down at one of them and this notion -- hard to put into words but something like this -- occurred to me: Is that my dog? This question -- the answer to which seemed so logically to be yes -- was followed by a slew of others. Is this my neighborhood? Is that my house? Is this my life? I have had similar experiences before. Once, when I was 14, I was sweeping the lobby in the McDonald's where I worked when I was suddenly struck with the concept that I was, indeed, sweeping a lobby in a McDonald's -- that this really was me and my job and my life. I had to stop sweeping and momentarily lean on the broom to ponder the revelation. It is otherworldly really, out-of-body -- I would almost compare it to deja vu except it is almost the exact opposite notion. Instead of feeling shocked because I feel so strongly I have been here before, I find myself shocked that I am here at all. For a single moment, my own life seems to me novel -- like it belongs to someone else. It reminds me of that Talking Heads song (which, like the poem I mentioned before, I don't really like as a whole, though I can appreciate the sentiment it none-too-eloquently relates) -- "Once in a Lifetime." Something about how you might ask yourself how you got here and is that your beautiful wife and is that your big car or house.
I wish I had some smack-in-the-baseball-mitt conclusion for you today, but I don't. There are far too many directions I could go with a final moral or lesson or theme here. As it is, I have tried to fit too much into one blog entry. But perhaps I have given you some things to consider. Who are you? And how did you get here?
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