The Less I Plan, the More Creative I Am

Rose: "When the ship docks, I'm getting off with you."
Jack: "This is crazy!"
Rose: "I know! That's why I trust it."
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I'm listening to the Duchess soundtrack (egads, Rachel Portman is such an exquisite composer!) and something crossed my mind today that was quite odd but deliciously exciting:

The less I plan, the more creative I am

Now, this may not work for you, but for me, plans suffocate. They wrap their hands around any future spontaneous moments and squeeze the life out of them! Yes, I'm being overdramatic, but this is something I've struggled with for years. I want my life to be so orderly and continuously productive, like living on a bell curve. One step leads to the next, which builds onto the next and the next until ...

Until what? Until I become what I originally wanted in the first place, I guess. To live in my own light and make each day count in my own silly, quirky, old-soulish way.

Planning actually seems counter-intuitive, and what's more, I have so many examples of times I was truly bone-deep happy and fun-fancy free WITHOUT a single penciled-in thing in my calendar. Times I frolicked in a toga (yes, a toga!) at a historical conference with a bunch of other past-lovers, times I raised a glass and kicked up a heel at a pub, times I looked into the eyes of the sweetest little puppy and said, "yes, I'll take her," times I thought I'd like to see that movie/read that book/listen to that music and was so swept away I forgot who I was ... and just was me.

Planning can create a 'no' before 'yes' even has a chance to get here. No, I can't go to that __________ because I already said I'd do _____________. Now, this is not to say I won't attend any large event that does need planning for the future (like another conference!), but the more vast snowy white space in my dayplanner, the better I seem to do.

And whose square blocks of time am I living in, anyway? My Aquarian nose wrinkles at such blatant conformity, so I shed it and say, "I'm on my own time now, and it's elastic." It stretches to wrap around the project I'm currently working on, which right now is copying old Civil War soldier diaries into a Word file so I can use them for future scenes in the DG sequel. That's what my 'time' is about, anyway. Jane Austen lived within a calendar of six novels. I think that's a great way to measure time.

So, that is my new calendar. Who knows if it's Monday or Saturday, January or May. Who knows if it's two in the morning or ten at night, which happens to be my favorite time. I forego it and leave the planning to other people who like that sort of thing.

Meanwhile, I'll be over here, trusting the craziness of a life with little planning and not feeling any the less for it. Rose learned to embrace life and live each day to the fullest, so I join her and gain strength in the process.

Someday my calendar will close and the square-block days will be over. Before then, I picture a bookshelf with a bunch of great stories. A dayplanner in literary form. It whispers, if you lean in to hear:

this is how I spent my time