It’s been a long time since I’ve had a throw away day. And it’s going to be a while yet before another one comes my way, I hope.
A throw away day is a day when, though there may be things that need to be done, circumstances have converged to make the day one where I can do or not do whatever I please because, for whatever reason, I am not required to finish anything or even start anything.
A throw away day might occur when on vacation and between planned activities, like, “Yesterday we were in Malaga and tomorrow we’re on our way to Marbella, but today we have no plans, we’re just here in Spain doing whatever.”
It happens when I’m no where near my home, so I have no laundry or dishes to do, no current household projects I can work on because I’m half way around the world. I’m free and, hopefully, up for anything that might come along.
And while waiting for something to come along, I’ll be scattered. Scattered of thought, scattered of desire. I’ll just bounce from idea to idea and eventually back again, until I settle on something and even then I may change my mind once I’ve started doing whatever it was I decided to do.
I’m okay with that. I’m well aware that this is actually a sort of recharging that allows my brain to spin at high speed and still just idle without a real load on it.
It feels good, with only the occasional twinge of anxiety when my mind tries to inventory the things I’ve forgotten that I maybe should be doing.
It doesn’t happen very often
And it rarely happens at home, because … home is where the to do lists are. But sometimes it happens at home, despite the to do lists and their proximity to the mind.
Like, if I’m unwell and restricted to bed by my physical condition. Then I can just let my fevered mind whirl around without regret.
Today is not that day. I am not in Spain. I am not in a hotel in Niagara Falls. I am not sick and bed bound.
Today I am just scattered, and I’m not sure why.
And, although the ghosts of anxious feelings are drifting in and out of my consciousness I’m not feeling worried about being scattered.
You see …
I have grown comfortable with the way I am over the last few years.
I’m aware that I will make mistakes, and then fix them.
I’m aware that I will forget things. I’m comfortable asking what I am forgetting these days.
I’m aware that I will always take care of things as soon as I am able to.
When I was forty years old, I was not aware of my mind’s state of chaos. When I turned fifty, I had been made aware and I was appalled.
Now, in my sixth decade, I am done wasting time worrying about what I did and didn’t do. I have figured out that there is only sixty minutes in every hour and if I spend them worrying I’m not doing or undoing and I’m not correcting, I’m just wasting time.
And life is too good to waste a single moment of it on that anxiety garbage.