When I was a child my family vacationed in Hilton Head, South Carolina for one week every August with family friends who had children close in age. Every night as my peers and I settled down for bed, I’d propose an agenda for the next day. First we would wake up at 5:30 and watch the sunrise. Then we would eat breakfast. Next we would go the beach. After that we would eat lunch and so on. No one ever wanted to wake up at 5:30.
I am planner. And I don’t mean one day, at some distant point in the future, I plan to read Ulysses (though I would like to read Ulysses, or at least one thing written by Joyce). I deconstruct my hopes for the future into actionable goals; to every extent within my control I set out to achieve them. Yes, I’ve encountered obstacles I did not anticipate which forced me to readjust. Yes, opportunities I did not expect have presented themselves. Yes, more than once, I’ve decide to change directions. But if you aren’t trying to figure out how to get where you want to go, making plans accordingly, and putting those plans into action I really have no idea how you can expect to achieve much of anything beyond life happening to you – a choice within itself.
If I’m not busy formulating or executing a plan I began to feel that nothing is happening, and life begins to feel routine. I begin to worry about my future. Plans give me a sense of control, though I am well aware I have little. Sometimes you reach a point where you’ve done all you can you. Sometimes waiting is an action.