A Day With No Schedule
This morning, as usual, I woke up and checked my calendar.
The page for today was blank.
I’ve written before about how an empty calendar previously caused me to feel a twinge of sadness. But today I felt relief.
Because today I had no appointments.
No meetings.
No lunch plans.
No conference calls.
No doctors.
No dentists.
No people wanting a few minutes of my time, which always seems to take more than an hour.
After nearly six decades of running a company, raising a family, publishing a poetry magazine, writing books, serving on boards, and generally sticking my nose into more projects than wisdom would recommend, I have become accustomed to a calendar filled with names. For more than sixty years weekdays meant obligation.
But today my calendar was as open as the sky.
I loved it.
When I was younger, I might have panicked. Surely something must be wrong, because everyone knows you should use every scrap of time for accomplishment. Build something. Buy something. Fix something.
But now, at eighty-six, I have a more relaxed philosophy.
Sometimes the highest form of productivity occurs when you give yourself the time and space to create without a deadline or schedule.
Around nine I ambled into my home office and sat in my chair. And then I just sat there gazing out the window at my lovely backyard and watched a squirrel swipe an avocado from a neighbor’s tree.
Then I spent a few hours reading a new book. At lunchtime I contemplated the contents of the refrigerator. A man rushing to complete a task or who is late for an appointment grabs food. A man with no schedule is free to study the ingredients and leftovers in the fridge with the concentration of a museum curator.
I considered whether a piece of pie might qualify as a balanced meal (if consumed thoughtfully).
The best moment came in midafternoon when I briefly wondered whether I might like to take a nap.
Then I wondered if I should read. Or maybe write.
Then I decided to postpone the decision.
Freedom, I’ve discovered, is not needing to have the answers, and tomorrow the calendar will probably refill itself. It always has.
But today was a gift — an entire day without a single date.
How do I respond when I receive such a gift?
I say, “Thank you”.
Alan.