My Blank Calendar

When I woke up this morning, I checked my calendar, as is my usual custom, to see what meetings or deadlines I had scheduled. There was just one word for today. “Blog.”

A sense of freedom burst forth, and I felt an immediate rush of relief. Other than writing this blog, which I enjoy, I had no responsibilities for the entire day. Isn’t that what we all work for — a lifetime of retirement Sundays, stretching into the foreseeable future?

And yet, despite being relieved of responsibilities, I felt a twinge of sadness. For years, I’ve defined myself by being productive at “work.” For years I’d been riding the “Productivity Bus”, and it’s been impossible for me to get off. I must have purchased the “eternal” ticket, because twenty-one years ago I passed the age of normal retirement, and today the second oldest person in my company is a quarter of a century younger than I am and won’t catch up to me (in age).  Ever.

But since I’m the founder of my company and set my own work hours, I can write my blog at home.  Even while lying in bed.  And that gives me much of the time-freedom I’ve always treasured.

But a calendar is always a tradeoff. It tells you what you have planned, both your obligations and your social engagements and, hopefully, keeps your appointments from tumbling all over each other. But it also forces you to plan in advance, and it can lock you into specific commitments to avoid two or three lunch dates in the same day. (Unless you are unusually sociable. Or really hungry).

And that reminds me of breakfast, which has lately been semi-instant oatmeal from Trader Joe’s.  I recommend it.

Today, there is time for writing, and a separate time for eating. And a time to reflect and enjoy my sense of freedom.

But I don’t need a calendar to tell me that.

Alan