Revelations (Part 6)

Do you see those two full firewood stacks? That's where two old beds stood.
One of them is in the foreground. Where the half empty stack is standing,
were two full stacks, one in front of the other.
And all that dirt in front of them? Uneven, patchy grass. 

In preparation for tonight's post, I reread last Sunday's musings. It took four straight days of intense labor to tear down, fix up, rebuild, and refill those two garden beds. Most of it occurred in the late morning, early afternoon--I do have other responsibilities and chores. But their completion was paramount, a lynchpin in starting on other projects. If I did not move them, I could not start work on the firewood racks. Without that storage space for the wood, the area around my shed would remain a mess, preventing me from building a properly contained compost heap. No compost heap? No dethatching my lawn. And my lawn needs to be dethatched and aerated, all of which needs to occur before the first frost. 

Well, September went by in a flash, and these things weighed heavily on my mind--these tasks, along with a multitude of other ones. Like the new Christmas decor I would like to craft this year. Or the many woodworking projects that keep popping up in my head. Then there are all the personal goals that have littered my brain for years: writing fiction daily, improving my drawing skills, reading more books, being more physically active. And those are not even the half of it.

Each time I made an attempt at these goals, I failed to follow through. Things get in the way. Some of it its out of my control. The garage becomes too cold for at least three months out of the year. Long stretches of nasty weather interfere with outside projects. Necessary and urgent events arise, or other people require my attention and commitment. However, most of the obstacles stem from old, ineffective habits and anxieties. I procrastinate, because I am afraid to fail, or suck at something. My mind convinces me that all I need is time to create the perfect solution to a problem. But, there are no perfect solutions, only shitty, not-so-shitty, effective, and good enough. Once in a while, there are the brilliant ones, but even they can be improved on with enough time, skills, and resources.  And, so, my mind makes excuses.

For example, I could make impressive garden beds that would stand around for decades. They would require thick cedar wood, which means finding a place that sells it in large slabs. And cedar is expensive. So, already time and money. But also I would have to overcome my fear of dealing with an unfamiliar place and people. Also, an unknown process. I have never bought lumber directly from a mill, and do not know the lingo and expectations. Now we have added anxiety.  Then there is assembling the cedar wood in a way that would last as long as the wood itself. That means joinery. Now, I have some skill in that area, but certain joints work better than others for a given situation. And making mistakes with expensive wood is never fun.

Sure, going through all those steps would add valuable life experiences, but I do not have time right now. Those beds need to be moved. Other projects are relying on this step. My old self would waste so much time planning, fretting, hedging, and hesitating, that nothing would get done. Then I would hate myself, which would drive me to further inaction.

Two weeks ago, I made a bunch of ugly lists. Each day, I reviewed and edited them, improving their structure, content, and purposes. As they changed and expanded, they inspired me to act. By the end of the first week, the garden beds were completed.

Now, I am happy to say, after five long, hot, humid days of digging, moving, and making a lot of mistakes, I have three not-so-shitty, definitely effective, with smatterings of good-enough firewood stacks. In addition, the area around my shed is good enough for my future compost heap. Finally, the most important part, that turned out to be brilliant: I did not allow some major setbacks to hold me back, and instead used the power of my little successes, and the inspiration of my half-ass lists, to push through these obstacles. 

The multiple holes for the footings that I dug up, filled in, and re-dug because they were not level? No problem, there is still daylight left.

The discovery of an irrigation line running through the exact spot for a footing that would allow the stacks to be equally distanct from each other? Eh, big deal, symmetry is over rated.

Realizing the remaining 2x4s are too short to match the other vertical pieces? A good time to overcome my anxieties about picking up lumber at Lowe's, by making a quick afternoon run. (Okay, some times symmetry is important.)

Now, there were better ways of approaching this project. Removing all the wood and wood stacks at once would have allowed me to level the ground and place the footings more accurately and easily. But it would have required more time, and definitely more energy on my part. Plus, I did not have a place to put the wood that was near the future stacks. It was a tradeoff worth making. In addition, I should have measured out all the pieces beforehand, making sure I had enough lumber. That would have prevented a late-afternoon run on Lowe's.  Finally, if I had been in better shape, I could have worked longer and faster. Some of the days, I had to end before a section or task was complete. By the weekend, I was spent, and unable to complete the vital step of covering the woods stacks. So, early this morning, before the rains came, I rushed out in pajamas to hastily throw tarp over the wood, and weighing them down with logs. I had planned for a more aesthetic and effective system; I settled for good enough. 

In the end, I learned two valuable lessons. First, multiply all time required to finish a project by about three. Five would be better. Especially when you have unknowns, like what is buried in the ground, or make mistakes that require going back out to the store. Second, little successes add up, especially when they are clearly visible. Seeing the old wood removed from around the garden beds felt good. Yes, the pile of dirt just sitting there, begging to be moved, reminded me of what was still ahead. However, knowing that it meant a step was completed, motivated me to keep moving forward. When you cross enough items off the to-do list, you realize that you can move on to something new. 

Now, to apply all of this to other aspects of my life. I can finally write that first novel, draw all those images that are crowding my head, and read at least two books a month (one fiction, and one non-fiction). Oh, and achieve that six-pack of abs I have always wanted. Just kidding about that last one.

And it all began with sucking at making and using lists.

Actually, I lied. Twice. It did not all begin with my list-making, two weeks ago. If I had to give a start date for this part of my life, it began when I started blogging, around the time the pandemic started. So, this has been at least three years in the making. Yep, three fucking years to get here. Which leads to the second lie. The most important lesson I discovered from this journey, is the importance of patience. Sucking at things requires time. Making lists, failing at tasks, even succeeding, all consume time.  

If I want results, I have to be willing to spend time working at them, and less time daydreaming about finishing them.