So be it. We live to learn, and the lessons are firmly planted in my brain now.

This year, as the light begins to recede and the air blows chilly, my approach is different. Some things I’ve simply eliminated, or drastically cut back on, but it occurred to me as I spoke with a friend yesterday that I’m doing nearly as much, but without the hangover. The madness is still there, but somehow it’s saner this time around. So, what’s the difference?

People often speak about minor adjustments to make major changes, using the very true example of “if the angle of a line changes by two degrees, it ends up in a very different place over time.” And while I’d like to claim revelatory thoughts every waking moment, I’m going to have to lean on this old maxim for now.

Two degrees. The difference is subtle, but profound, so I thought I’d list a few things that can make, as Robert Frost put it, “all the difference.”

1. Listen to your body.

If your body is telling you it’s tired, it is. Coffee and chocolate may fool it for an hour or so, but it won’t do you any good in the long run. Go home and rest.

2. Forgive yourself.

If you had set a goal and come up short, allow that to be. Pushing through for the sake of pushing through may have a certain value, but I refer you to the first item on this list.

3. Delegate.

This is huge. There are things you’re doing that you don’t have to do. I’m not advocating turning everybody in your life into your de facto assistant, but you might not have to do everything you’re doing. Let others help. And if you can pay somebody to do something, pay them while you focus on what you do.

4. Avoid extremes.

I was nearly knocked to the ground recently when I heard a teacher say that “the excess of anything risks becoming its opposite, too much generosity leads to selfishness.” In a flash, I saw that my effort at building things, was in fact, destruction. Humbling indeed.

5. Laugh.

Just… laugh as much as you can.

As I say, I’ve been very busy of late, doing various jobs, putting together projects, taking classes, reading books, fixing up a house, but it’s happening without the overwhelm so far. There may be something to this two degree stuff after all.

After several hours of reading aloud, the mind goes numb. Try it some time and you’ll understand. The voice, too, strains and cracks, but that seems minor compared to losing all faculty for language.

But, forever seeking to understand the intersection of my meditative practice and my professional life, it dawned on me that audiobooks were a gift from the heavens. Not only do I enjoy the work immensely, but the recording sessions are a chance to deepen my practice. Time on the cushion and time in the booth are alarmingly similar.

The body is still, erect but not rigid, for a long period. A quiet comes over the room. The mind wanders, and we are asked to bring it back. We notice our discursive thoughts and learn not to judge them, for the judging simply interferes with the task at hand. And when we rise, and shake the stiffness from our bones, we are transformed.

The world outside moves at a different pace. The sounds seems crisper, the angle of the light more acute. And the mind, though exhausted, is refreshed.

I wonder how many other activities in life are equally similar, or at least have that possibility.  I wonder…

In the blink of an eye, I’ve gone from having absolutely no time to staring at the paint peeling in my bathroom.  The rest is welcome, believe me, and yes, I do leave the house on occasion, but this flip-side of the freelancer’s life has struck with the same force as the original typhoon that was winter 2009-2010.

It’s a time to read books, do odd jobs around the apartment, and enjoy a leisurely coffee with the newspaper, but mostly the shock hits so hard that you pace around a lot and consider, in theory, doing laundry and buying a lamp.  (Yesterday I ventured into this strange place called “the gym,” but the machines looked so alien I headed home and called the Mars Rover people to notify them I’ve found their missing equipment.)

For those who think this is a wonderful problem to have, I won’t argue that downtime is good, but it’s not that great if you’re simply in a vegetative state.  Up until a week ago I was running around like a courier working on commission.  Now I don’t know what to do with myself, despite having a hundred things I want to do.  And I know that in another week’s time, it could all ramp up again, and I should use this gift of time with purpose and clarity.

But herein lies the tragedy of it all, or at least the irony.  We work so hard to get ahead in our lives and careers, that when the spoils come, like time, it’s either so foreign to our senses or we’re too stupified to know what to do with it.  This is not living.  This is madness.

I’m going for a walk in Central Park on a Wednesday afternoon.  The chance to do so is one of the reasons I chose a life that never involves an office.  And I’m going to enjoy every blessed second of my time.  My phone will be that thing not ringing next to the peeling paint.

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.

After a moment, a second actor, cut from the same cloth, sauntered over.  The two recognized each other, greeted a fond hello and started in on some idle chatter that soon turned into a litany of complaints, laced with profanities and full of bile.  It was uncomfortable for anybody within earshot.  Endless moans about part time bar jobs, unemployment and getting old.

I looked over and asked myself, “What is to stop me from becoming one of these guys in twenty years time?”  They must have gone forth, as younger men, never dreaming that one day they’d be reduced to this.  Who or what is to say that I will be any different?

But then it struck me.  Today is the future I created yesterday, and tomorrow is the future I’m creating today.  It’s in what I do right here, right now, moment to moment.  And suddenly I was lit up with gratitude.  Not for all the privileges I enjoy, but for the ability to see clearly what is at stake, and to recognize my part in it.

I know exactly what will determine whether I wake up one day a bitter old man.  It’s whether I wake up right now.

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.

And a new decade!

Such possibilities…

My time in London years ago aroused my interest in street signs.  The many “Look Left/Look Right” signs saved my life on several occasions.  Perhaps the arrows around New York have a similar purpose for me now…

(Please note, these are not my photographs.  Thank you to the original photographers.  I would credit you, but I did not find your names.)