Less Better

I want to do less stuff better.  Life is so busy on so many fronts I feel like the Swedish Chef on the Muppet Show, furiously chopping away with glee, and most of the lettuce ending up on the floor.  I want to do less stuff better.  I made it back to the yoga mat last night after a long and meandering detour.  You step outside the comfort of routine for just a moment, and the door swings shut behind you.  Like standing in a hotel hallway in your underwear you cringe in apology to passers by, “I only stepped out to grab the paper and the door locked behind me.”  They harrumph in disgust and judgement as they give you wide berth passing with their backs dragging the opposite hallway and their children’s eyes covered by a protective hand.  “I’m a good and decent person” you assure them with the USA Today covering your humiliation.  I want to do less things better.  I suspect people who are truly brilliant at something are absolutely terrible at so many other things.  I bet Aretha Franklin can’t throw a baseball, because she does so much less so much better.

Juancho

9 Responses to Less Better

  1. That’s been my policy all along, to do one thing really well. The problem is that thing I chose to do: dabble.

  2. And here I am, doing fewer things worse. Don’t aim for that. Beth would say it’s because of my “badditude.” Keep juggling those balls, and the ones that really matter will stay up in the air.

  3. Ahhhh, no one in the middle-class gets out of having to do a little bit of everything, but it helps if one’s partner is good at what we’re bad at. 😉

  4. Amen to that my brother. On retrospecting on the chaotic week of tire burning, tractionless monkey motion I experienced….at this particular moment.. I am thankful that I can just do *anything* at all!

    Far as the MTbikey…if I can stay in the saddle for 5 more years(70) I’m golden.

    🙂

    Peace

    Buzz

  5. Hm-m-m, that seems to be in conflict with the constant exhortations by AARP and other organizations that are attuned to the process of Growing Old in America to always be reinventing ourselves, striking out on new pathways so as to deter the trend toward boredom and living in the ruts we’ve dug for ourselves over the past decades. “A new career at seventy!” I dunno, that shit costs money.