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Flipping the Switch: Exploring Life’s ON/OFF Dynamics

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“Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.”

–Aristotle (384–322 BC; Greek philosopher whose foundational contributions to philosophy, science, and ethics profoundly influenced Western thought and continue to shape intellectual inquiry today.)

As a lifelong learner, I never cease to be amazed by the little things that I learn–more or less by accident or by trial and error–that have far-reaching significance when I apply them to my life.

One day last week, for example, I was in the kitchen after dinner, trying to make the biggest decision of the day. Do I use the dishwasher? Do I wash the dishes by hand?

It was hardly a decision. Actually, it was a no-brainer, especially since we had seven inches of snow on the ground, and I had spent a lot of energy that day clearing the stone walkway and the gravel driveway. It was a quick and decisive win for the dishwasher.

I loaded it systematically, popped in the little Cascade pod, selected NORMAL and SANITIZE, pressed START, and closed the door. Usually, at that moment, a red beam flashes on the floor, just below the dishwasher’s door. I never look to make certain, but this time, something made me look back. No light.

Hmmm. Maybe I didn’t press START. I opened the door, pressed START, and closed the door. Once again, the light did not shine its beam.

I opened the dishwasher and looked at the control panel more carefully. To the far left, I saw ON/OFF. Then I remembered the electrical hiccup earlier in the day. Maybe if I turned the dishwasher OFF and waited for a while, it would reset itself. If powering OFF works for computers and other gadgets, it might work for dishwashers, too.

Sure enough. Five minutes later, I pressed ON, NORMAL, SANITIZE, and START. The red light beamed on the floor, and my Bosch worked as beautifully as ever.

Imagine that! All that it took was turning it OFF, waiting a bit, and turning it back ON. One switch was all that it took to get it going again, just like new.

Somehow, I immediately started thinking about aspects of my life where I might need to press the OFF switch in order to come back ON again with greater vigor.

I wasn’t thinking about a major life reset, nudging me to step back in order to get back on course. I wasn’t thinking about having a day of unplugging my Smartphone, my PC, and my other electronics as people are challenged and encouraged to do on the Global Day of Unplugging.

What I had in mind was exploring some areas of my life that I could turn OFF long enough to allow me to step back, evaluate, develop new strategies, and then turn back ON with a new sense of purpose and joy.

Luckily, my life is simple. I do what I do by choice. I try to avoid extraneous activities or social connections that aren’t meaningful.

Luckily, too, I don’t need to push the OFF switch on areas of my life such as finances, friendships, reinvention, research, or writing. They can remain ON.

Luckily, I don’t have a lot of OFF/ON considerations to make. Nonetheless, I have a few things to consider.

The first thing that sprouted in my mind was gardening. How ironic considering the seven inches of snow on the ground. But, hey, my first gardening catalog had arrived from Plant Delights Nursery, and I had been in a lustful mood ever since. Who wouldn’t be with gorgeous specimens such as Philipp Hardy Ladyslipper Orchid and Gay Paree Peony staring at me, winking at me, and tempting me.

The shameless seduction went on, page after page. Every time I saw a hot specimen that I had to have, I dog-eared that page. The catalog had 113 pages, and that’s exactly how many dog ears I had. Don’t worry. With each wink, I mentally surveyed my snow-covered garden, planning where I would bed down this plant and where I would tuck in the next plant and the next and the next.

And the next thing I knew, I pressed my gardening OFF switch. Here’s why. My garden beds have always involved huge investments of time and money. For twenty years, my late partner and I took great joy in creating new beds and putting in new specimen plants. Each year, the gardens and our investments grew exponentially. However, since Allen’s death, I’ve had to do the “doing” alone.

What better time than right now in the dead of winter with snow on the ground to press the gardening OFF switch? Maybe my decision will provide unexpected emotional healing. Maybe it will allow me to acknowledge the weight of past investments and the changes that have occurred in my life during the last three years. By giving myself permission to hit the OFF switch and step back, maybe I’ll be honoring Allen’s memories while also prioritizing my own well-being. Maybe my ultimate decision will be to focus on garden maintenance and garden celebration instead of new projects and new plants. It might give me a deeper appreciation for the beauty of the present moment while laying the groundwork for continued growth and creativity in the gardening seasons yet to come.

Then, I started thinking about cooking and baking. Next to gardening, that’s probably the area in my life gobbling up the most time and money. Don’t get me wrong. I love my kitchen adventures. But here’s the thing. I like to cook daily, using fresh ingredients bought daily. While I like simple down-home foods, more often than not, I’m traipsing into the more complicated culinary wilderness of international cuisines, especially Thai and Vietnamese. To make matters more complex, I don’t like leftovers, especially if I’m going to pop them into the freezer to be thawed for future consumption. Sorry. It just doesn’t turn me on at all. On top of all that, these days I’m cooking and baking most of the time just for me. I still use my best linens, china, flatware, and stemware daily, but it can be a challenge even when I’m dining by candlelight or in front of the kitchen fireplace.

If it sounds lovely, it is. But I’m wondering what would happen if I turned my cooking/baking switch OFF for a while, maybe for just a week. Maybe stepping away from daily cooking and baking routines would prompt me to appreciate the simplicity of meals prepared with minimal effort. Or I might discover the joy of uncomplicated dishes and find satisfaction in the ease of preparation. Or maybe it would deepen my appreciation for the artistry and craftsmanship of professional chefs, especially if I ate out or (God forbid!) ordered takeout during my OFF week. It might inspire me with new culinary ideas and perspectives and enrich my future cooking endeavors. If nothing else, stepping away only to reaffirm my belief that home cooking always wins would be worth switching to OFF for a week.

Next up, my exercise routine. I’ve been biking indoors seven days a week for 20+ years. Obviously, I love my Schwinn. In addition, I have a LifeFitness weightlifting system, and I try to work out three times a week. However, if I had to pick one word to describe how I feel about my exercise routine these days, it would be boring. Yep. Boring. I really need to hit the OFF switch for a while. Even before I do, I know that I will be miserable and grouchy. Aside from needing physical benefits, I need the emotional centering that biking gives me. Maybe I need to “miss” it in order to rekindle the flame. But what about the weights? I ain’t missing them at all, yet I know that a man my age needs to lift weights to maintain muscle strength and bone density. Who knows what my OFF time will do? Maybe I’ll end up joining a local gym so that I have more structure, discipline, camaraderie, and even competition. OMG! Maybe I’ll end up with a personal trainer. Double OMG!! Maybe I’ll end up with a home sauna as an incentive to work up a sweat. Triple OMG!!! Maybe both, at home!

I have one last dimension of my life to think about. My spirituality. I like to believe that I know who I am. I like to believe that I know my core values and beliefs. I like to believe that I know how things stand between me and the universe and a snowy winter day. I like to believe that I listen to the constant whisperings of my inner voice.

Yet, even in the still and calm of my mountain world, the busy-ness of my daily life creates mind chatter that interferes with spiritual communication signals. It’s been a while since the flutter of angel wings, the sound of unknown voices, or the mysteries of Third Eye visions have made me pause, longing for lasting. I want those spiritual moments to be more frequent and more abiding.

To reach them, I won’t turn my spirituality switch to OFF. Instead, I will turn everything else OFF as I head off to a retreat–perhaps a day, perhaps a weekend, or perhaps a week–with nothing required of me other than honoring a vow of silence so that I might better hear the sound of my soul calling.

Flipping the switches to OFF will not redefine me. It will refuel me.

Flipping the switches to OFF will not weaken me. It will strengthen me.

Flipping the switches to OFF will ignite a more profound ON and will push me forward, nourished, rejuvenated and powered by newfound vigor and dynamics.

I’m a Wired To-morrower

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“Tomorrow is often the busiest day of the week.”

–Spanish Proverb

When I jumped into bed a week ago, I was ever so eager to get going on the post that you’re reading right now. Trust me, though, I was ready to hop right back out again when I realized that I didn’t have the foggiest idea what I was going to write about. Normally, that’s no big deal. Almost always, I have lots of ideas in various stages of development. So, I simply did what I have often done in the past. I opened my posts and started scrolling through the drafts. One by one, I dissed ideas that had once upon a time captured my fancy. I found myself saying over and over and over again:

“Not in the mood.“

Even if you’re not a writer, you know as well as I that “Not in the mood ” translates to “It ain’t gonna happen. Forget it.” It means that even if it doesn’t begin with, “Honey, not tonight.“

I’m not sure why I wasn’t in the mood. Maybe I was drained from the New Year’s and Christmas celebrations that I myself had desired.

Then, just when I was ready to put off the post until tomorrow, I saw a draft that looked inviting because of its downhome and simple title: “The Concept of Tomorrow.”

“Perfect. I can run with that idea.”

I opened the post and nearly jumped out of bed for a second time in as many minutes.

All that I had was the title. It was so lame that I couldn’t even call it a title. I might be generous enough to call it an ill-formed topic. Whatever it was, it had no notes. Not one word. Nothing.

My mind chatter started replaying in loop mode what I always tell writers:

“Whenever you have an idea, capture as many details as possible so that it will seem fresh when you return, even if you return a year later.”

Obviously, I had not followed my own writerly advice. I lay there in bed, silently lecturing myself while staring at my blank WordPress page.

Then I had a flashback. I remembered what prompted the initial idea. I needed to do something, and I had the time to do it right then and there, but I wasn’t in the mood to do it right then and there, so I decided that I would do it tomorrow. I’m all too familiar with the all-too-familiar line:

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

Well, why not? If Scarlet O’Hara can get away with it in Gone with the Wind, so can I:

“I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.“

Ironically, even after having those course-correction thoughts about Scarlet and about what I tell writers they need to do when they have an idea, I went right ahead and became a to-morrower anyway. But not without immediate reprobation.

In that same instant, I kicked my Jackass self with all four hooves because I am not by nature a to-morrower.

“Yes. To-morrower is a bona-fide word.”

“Say what?”

“I did not make that up. I can prove it.”

I’m tempted to wait until tomorrow to find my proof, but, on second thought, I’ll go ahead and find it today. I just checked the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). To-morrower is defined as “a person who puts matters off till tomorrow; a procrastinator.” The word was first used in 1810:

He [sc. Thomas DeQuincey] is as great a To-morrower to the full as your poor Husband. S. T. Coleridge, Letter c14 April (2000) vol. III. 804

So, there’s my proof. I can’t do it right now, but tomorrow, I will do further research to find out more about Coleridge’s letter. He is certainly bad mouthing somebody’s husband, and I’m dying to know who, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, let me note that the word was not used in print again until 1880:

“The Postponer, The Deferrer, or, as we might say, The Tomorrower (G. Meredith, Tragic Comedians vol. II. vi. 96)

Even without waiting until tomorrow to decide, it is very clear to me today that to-morrower is never used in a complimentary way. But actually, it sounds more flattering than most of its synonyms that were bantered around before and after 1810:

● tarrier (1382)
● delayer (1509)
● postponer (1533)
● prolonger (1548)
● proroguer (1551)
● deferrer (1552)
● waiter upon God (1592)
● procrastinator (1607)
● temporizer (1609)
● protractor (1611)
● retarder (1644)
● cunctator (1654)
● adjourner (1738)
● postponator (1775)
● putter-off (1803)
● offput (1856)
● shelver (1881)
● staller (1937)

I don’t know about you, but I don’t like any of those synonyms except for, maybe, “waiter upon God.” It could be a perfect job title, fleshed out as follows:

Job Description: “Ready to trade your earthly apron for angelic wings? We’ve got the gig for you – ‘Waiter upon God.'”

Qualifications: 1. Angelic patience (Mortal patience won’t cut it.) 2. Ability to stay cool under Divine pressure. (3) Must be willing to wear a halo.

Benefits: (1) Job security: God doesn’t do layoffs. (2) Direct hotline to the Divine HR. (3) Unlimited access to Divine WiFi.

Targeted Candidates: Prophets, miracle-workers, and those with an affinity for clouds are ideal candidates. Apply tomorrow and start your cosmic career the day after.

I don’t need to wait until tomorrow or the day after to know how I feel about some of the other synonyms. For me, words that I use need to roll off my tongue easily, leaving behind a good, smooth mouth feel. I challenge you to say aloud proroguer or cunctator. If you can even pronounce the words, I’ll guarantee you that they will not roll off your tongue easily. As for mouth feel, you’ll probably feel the need to wash your mouth out. If I were you, I wouldn’t wait until tomorrow.

Then there’s postponator. What a silly looking word. I’ll wait until tomorrow to check it out in the OED. Surely it was used in jest. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow, so here’s what I just found about postponator. Thank God! The word appears to have been used only once and that was way back in 1775:

Rawlins postponator declares the resolution not proper to proceed from the Committee of South Carolina.

While I was checking the OED, I decided to go ahead and get the low down on shelver. I know that it has absolutely nothing to do with returning books to a library shelf, but that’s what it ought to mean. Don’t you agree?

Eight sheluers, which pulled downe the courts [= carts] as they came to the place where it was needfull to vnlode. (A. Fleming et al., Holinshed’s Chronicles (new edition) vol. III. Contin. 1544/2)

I am awfully glad that I looked. I am certain that the OED editors made some kind of mistake when they included shelver in the historical thesaurus for to-morrower. Tomorrow, I shall reach out and let them know the error of their ways.

Up until now, I had been worried about using to-morrower in the title of this post. But having perused the alternatives, I like it a lot. It’s as good a way as any to feel less guilty about putting off until tomorrow what I could have done the day that I put off exploring the concept of tomorrow. Plus, I believe fully well that Scarlet herself would approve of my title. No doubt, however, she wouldn’t let me know until tomorrow, which will be too late because by then, I will have published this post.

As I touch type the final words on my smartphone, I raise my nearly empty Bunnahabhain (empty glass, mind you; not empty bottle) to all the tarriers, delayers, and even the occasional shelver. In the fast-fading fabric of word time, we are but mere stitches, weaving our stories one postponed task at a time. So, here’s to the to-morrowers, the champions of “It can wait until tomorrow,” because sometimes, tomorrow is just a delay away from today.

And with that, Dear Reader, I leave you until tomorrow or until I’m in the mood (but not tonight, honey). In the meantime, may your days (and nights) be filled with lots of in-the-moods, delightful detours, and amusing delays. After all, why rush today when there’s always the sweet promise of tomorrow? Cheers to the art of postponement!

Until then, I remain ever so faithfully yours (but not until tomorrow’s sunrise or, at least until tomorrow’s to-do list demands my attention)–

Your Wired To-morrower.

Old Anchors for the New Year

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“You have within you right now, everything you need to deal with whatever the world can throw at you.”

–Brian Tracy (b. 1944; CANADIAN AMERICAN motivational speaker, author, and personal development expert; His popular books are Earn What You’re Really Worth; Eat That Frog!; No Excuses!; The Power of Self-Discipline; and The Psychology of Achievement.)

Strangely enough, when I awakened from a restful night’s slumber not too long ago, I started thinking about a way to make my life better–not long-range, mind you, but instead, just for that day. I didn’t have anything special in mind. Actually, I didn’t have anything at all in mind, other than doing something, anything, to give me an added layer of fulfillment and improvement, so that I could look in the mirror and affirm, “Every day, in every way, I’m getting better and better.” After all, self-improvement, like learning, is lifelong.

As I lay there, I realized that my vaguely formed notion would do me no good whatsoever. I realized that I needed an action plan, even if it was nothing more than resolving to start the day by asking, in the spirit of Benjamin Franklin:

“What good shall I do this day?”

Perhaps I could even end each day with Franklin’s self-examination:

“What good have I done this day?”

Those two questions serve unequivocally as a noble way to live: doing good for others, living life in service to others.

I always make a point of sharing Franklin’s questions whenever I teach Colonial American Literature. I project onto the screen the facsimile page from Franklin’s Autobiography, containing those two questions, and I pause to give my students time to reflect. Then I ask:

“What if we lived our lives that way, with a daily commitment to doing good for others?”

I pause again, watching faces glow with good resolve:

“I challenge you. Live your life that way for an entire month. Start each day with, ‘What good shall I do this day?’ End each day with, ‘What good have I done this day?’

“Set your own daily goals and be the measure of your own performance.

“Oh. Yes. Here’s one more thing. Don’t tell anyone that you’re walking in Franklin’s footsteps. Don’t tell anyone about the daily good that you’re doing. Just go forth into your own world and do your own intended good.”

I can tell by their inspired faces that some of the students accept the challenge and go forth with determined resolve. I hope that they sustained the practice for their entire life. If they did, I know that it worked for them just as surely as it worked for Franklin, who, by the age of 42, dedicated his life to public service. I’d like to think that he did so with no realization that as he enriched the lives of others, so, too, would his own life be enriched.

If I had heeded Franklin’s advice that morning by venturing forth in a philanthropic direction, I could not have done better, especially at my age when opportunities to do good for others will not in the future be as plentiful as they have been in the past.

But Franklin’s approach didn’t resonate with me as I thought about a way to make my daily life better. I knew why. I didn’t have lofty in mind. Instead, I had little in mind. I wanted something little that I could do daily without too much fuss and without too much bother.

At that moment, an epiphany washed over me. I realized that I didn’t need to search for something new. I could tap something old that my fourth grade teacher, Helen Petry, introduced me to when I joined the 4-H Club. Its basic idea was then and remains now a simple one:

“[to] help young people and their families gain the skills needed to be proactive forces in their communities and develop ideas for a more innovative economy.”

4-H was especially popular in coal-mining areas where I grew up because it connected education and rural life.

Mrs. Petry mentored me during my first year of belonging to 4-H. From the fifth grade through the eighth, my English teacher, Edith Jarrell, guided me. Throughout high school, my biology teacher, Kenneth Gross, coached me. When I graduated, my nine years of active 4-H involvement ended.

However, the power of 4-H within me did not end. Though buried deep in my psyche, its principles became part of my core values, on par with my faith and work core values instilled in me by my parents. Those foundational values guided me through college and graduate school, through my federal career at the Library of Congress, and through my teaching career at Laurel Ridge Community College. They’re even guiding ne now through my career of reinvention.

Those realizations eased a soft smile across my waking face, as I lay there in bed, chanting to myself the 4-H pledge:

I pledge my head to clearer thinking,
My heart to greater loyalty,
My hands to larger service,
and my health to better living,
for my club, my community, my country, and my world.

In those quiet morning moments, I unearthed treasures deep within myself. From the enduring wisdom of Benjamin Franklin’s daily questions to the steadfast principles of the 4-H pledge, my core values have served as timeless anchors. Through the tapestry of love and loss, success and failure, birth and death, and every twist of fate along the way, my anchors have endured. My anchors have held.

In those quiet morning moments, I realized the simplicity of it all. All that I needed to do was dedicate one activity daily (regardless of how small) to my head, my heart, my hands, and my health.

As we begin a New Year, Dear Readers, may you have your own quiet morning moments. May you rediscover your own core values, and may you hold them tight with the full realization that they are not relics of your past: they are old anchors for your New Year.