What would you do if you knew that this was your last summer? I’m not trying to be morbid, just wondering. This summer I am working less than I have in decades. And it made me feel a little weird. It feels odd and disquieting to have so much non-work, unstructured time. In North American the default response to “How are you?” is usually “busy!” To not be busy seems wrong somehow. Maybe less important? A little lazy?
When I spoke to a good friend about my discomfort she was frank and a little blunt: “Chill, get over it. How many summers do you have left?” Wow, that’s quite a thing to think about. But it is true. No one really knows how many seasons we will have in the end. We all know people who ran out of time. Who passed away before reaching retirement. Whose knees gave out before they got to go on that longed-for hiking trip. Who never managed to reconnect with that old friend or family member. Who never wrote their book.
I think back to my elderly mom saying to me that she really missed riding a bike. I wondered, did she know the ride that was to be her last? Or did she think she’d have other summer afternoons to go for a spin and it just never happened? We probably don’t realize when it is going to be our last time.
So how about making the time now? Accept the invitation, take the drop-in class, swim the swim, go to the park, call a friend, eat the ice cream. Create space for those things that you enjoy. Give yourself a day off. Sit down and read (or write!) a book, even though there are chores or a pile of laundry or dishes to get through. They can wait. Life doesn’t.
If you need goals try these: Cultivate a gift for leisure. Don’t wait to do the things you want to do. Reject the idea of “busyness” as a virtue. Maybe this is easier to do in summer, but how about the rest of the year? The rest of your life? No one knows how many seasons we have. We need to make the most of it.