Attention Must Be Paid…Or Maybe Not

Less is more…especially in June, a dazzling and also tumultuous month that might as well be called “Jewel of a Jumble.” Shifting to a watery image, because it’s so hot today, I would also offer another name: “A Time to Keep Paddling, A Time to (Mostly) Refrain from Plunging.”

 

 

At this everything-is-happening-at-once time of year, deciding what not to do a deep dive into is just as important as deciding how to keep swimming forward through all the stuff we absolutely must do. So much demands our attention, but our attention needs protection or else it’s liable to become something limp, wrung out, used up.

Like the tech crew at the back of the auditorium during a show, how are we supposed to keep the right things lit up while letting the other things fade out?

 

 

With so many events – recitals, graduations, pilgrimages (OK, that last one could be singular, and I’m not partaking in it although two family members are)—not to mention the regular life maintenance stuff, we need something like a strategic plan.

First, not wanting to choose between activities, we try to wedge things in, as much as possible. The tattooed young woman at the car place was a little surprised when I told her that I’d be heading out for a run while my Rav4 was being serviced. “Well,” she said uncertainly, “we might need to reach you…” Well, fine, I’ll take my phone, but just sitting calmly by, waiting indoors with Muzak, when I had a perfectly good half an hour to make more vigorous use of, outdoors—that was out of the question. Even if the available road had almost no shoulder and I had my tennis shoes on.

Then we are assaulted by requests that, even more than at other times of year, must be rapidly dismissed. There was the email that came from Target a few days ago, urging me to post a review of something I just purchased (which I haven’t even seen because it was a wedding present shipped directly to the bride and groom). The nerve of those people, trying to appeal to any desire I might have to be generous: “Help other guests make a more informed purchase.” Sorry, other guests, the bond I feel with you is just not strong enough to prod me to tell you all about this clock that I’ve never met but managed somehow to order late one night.

And then there are the mportant happenings that 1) we really do care deeply about and 2) we’re actually witnessing. But I’ve discovered that, tempted as we are to go whole hog into all of these—absorbing every aspect of them—we’re often better off being satisfied going “part hog.” OK, that sounds funny. What I mean by that is, and this has taken me a while to learn, we often really can delve into just certain parts of these Big and Meaningful events and not let anyone down in the process. In fact, sometimes if we don’t adopt this strategy, we get ourselves in the gear called “Overwhelm”—resulting in something akin to unpleasantness. Not that this has ever happened in my family.

 

 

Here’s an example. I cared a great deal about making sure the girl I mentor was all set for the many dance rehearsals that led up to the Two Big Performances a couple of weekends ago. I didn’t want to miss a beat. But then, when it came to the actual shows, which were lengthy, I realized that my presence in the auditorium for every single number was…. not required! The parade of acts and the variety of costumes and music was impressive– but also frankly not necessary for my own health and well-being. Skip out! So long as I watched and appreciated her dance, just once, she and I were both satisfied.

Often more than we realize, we can respectfully slip away,  not see the whole program, not learn everyone’s name in the room, shed the weight of expected duty or of non-essential tasks that others might consider important, tasks that—added up– take time away from seeking sources of our own true joy.

In the Bible, there are many illustrations of the need to set priorities, to focus on the right path and not be distracted by many wrong ones. Apparently, this kind of thing has been happening well before our time. In Psalm 119:37 for example, we have this compelling request to God:

 

Turn my eyes away from worthless things; preserve my life according to your word.

 

From what I can tell about this life, though, it is mostly left up to each of us—not God– to find ways to “preserve” what we cherish most.

That’s why, when I swung in the driveway to my son’s dorm last weekend, to do a little shopping just a few days before his graduation, I stopped to take in this scene.

 

 

Other parents, too, were caring for their young. Somehow, it was just what I needed to see, cushioning the realization that my son and I were both, in the natural flow of time, shedding his fledgling years. Now that was something worth plunging into for a few moments.