Do something. No, not that. Something else.

So yeah, I’m structure-resistant. And it’s not just about that pendulum swing of rigid productivity versus slacker rebellion. I think it also has to do with thinking I shouldn’t need help.

Because I want to be one of those people who is perpetually mindful and productive. And since I think I should already be there, I’m not allowed to ask for directions on how to get there. Not a helpful cycle.

So instead, maybe I can be someone who creates a safety net, like a sailboat, while I am mindful and grounded. Something I can turn to when I’m scrambling around all bijigetty and overwhelmed.

Instead of Structure: The rigid plan required to keep my attention-challenged inner slacker in line, I’m trying to build A structure, like a container. One that can hold space for the things that are important to me. And one that can remind me what those essential things are.

Because even when I’m doing something I’ve decided is important, I pretty much always have some nebulous sense that I should be doing something else. Some whispy guilt hanging around regardless of which action I choose.

Like, I know my day goes so much better when most of my morning is spent doing things that don’t look much like work. Things like journaling and Dance of Shiva and meditating and hiking.

Everything flows so much better from there. Stuff gets done. Things jive happily. Except…

It doesn’t stop Lizard Brain Ozzie from unleashing a cacophony of frantic shrieking:

What do you think this is, Leisure World? We have a LOT to do. Hiking doesn’t pay the bills or save the world, you know. Sheesh.

(Once he got a load of how hilarious I found the coolest puppet on Earth Kelly’s assistant, Ozzie demanded his online debut. Not to be laughed at… No, no, no. To terrify all of you.)

Anyway, this vague, wispy, annoying sense of guilt is so counterproductive. And so widespread.

I know a guy who wants to spend more time reading. So he lets issues of The New Yorker and Atlantic pile up around his house. And, as a guiltifying reminder, actually carries heavy stacks along on his commute. To encourage himself to spend more time doing something he already wants to do.

There’s got to be a better way.

I think for me, it means stepping back and building my structure from way up high. While I’m centered and thinking clearly and have the perspective to say “this, this is important.”

And when Ozzie freaks out and yells: You shouldn’t be blogging, you should be working! You shouldn’t be hiking, you should be blogging! I can ban him from the bakery offer him a cookie.

And then maybe I can turn to the mindful part of me (the one who built the sailboat/bakery) for directions. Hmmm. Any ideas? Do you ever think you “should” be doing something else, even when you’re doing something that seems perfectly “legitimate”? How do you deal?