Finding Pleasure
After a life trained by work, where the days were driven by preparation and planning, it’s odd to be in a situation where that’s no longer central to my life. When I was in publishing, it was the spring books and the fall books and the trade shows and the sales meetings in between. Later, with my own company, I was driven by procedures for drilling and completing oil wells. Time was of the essence. Time was literally money. Planning made it all work.
Now days, my planning is done in the broadest of strokes with lots of variables, and I’ve come to realize that I’m mostly responsible for my plan, and the commitment of others to a coordinated plan is largely hit or miss, and even with a plan, there’s really nothing lost if it changes. Afterall, almost of the things for which I’m planning are recreational in nature and why should I tie my sense of self worth to things designed solely to be fun? It’s like party planning. It either works or it doesn’t.
There’s freedom in this realization. In a sense, I should have more control. Business planning was a lot like running white water. You got in and paddled for your life, the river directed your course, you did what you needed to do, and failure was hard. Recreational planning is a bit more sedate. First of all, I pick my rivers. Most of the stress I encounter is self-imposed, and failure is hardly worth discussing. Everything I do is something I want to do because it might be fun. And I can sit home if I want, and if something doesn’t work out, there’s always something else, a sunset, a walk on the beach, the laughter of a child, the sound of a song. Finding my pleasure is mostly up to me, and planning that ought to be fun.