On Wednesday, I was telling my therapist about this workshop and my struggle moving from dream to goals. As part of that discussion, she asked me why I don’t visit other Catholic Worker houses. The obvious answer is the pandemic, but the question sparked my imagination. Before everything fell apart, I had plans to travel a bit this summer: I had obligations in Chicago and Minneapolis, and between the conferences, meetings, and weddings, I wanted to visit friends and communities that inspire me. The pandemic isn’t forever, and I’m suddenly reinvigorated by the dream of travelling to communities once this is all over, to learn from them and dream about what my own community can look like. But I can start doing that now, even if I can’t travel. This workshop is something like that: I am learning from (new) friends and communities that inspire me. Thank you, all, for your posts and comments! I love reading them.
I felt a bit defensive when a few members of my group commented that I had too many goals, but it was quite helpful feedback. The most daunting of my goals was the goal to write for an hour every day: I can work on all the others, but if I don’t manage that hour (and I haven’t yet), I’ll feel like a failure. I’m revising that goal to “do some non-journalistic writing every day.” Another goals that merits re-evaluation is the goal to get up at 8 am. I mean, I still want to get up at 8 am (because I have ingrained capitalistic guilt about my body’s desire to sleep late), but I know that I also need to listen to my body/figure out why I have such trouble falling asleep and why I live with such omnipresent exhaustion/etc.
Otherwise, I continue to live with my goals. I’ve checked some boxes this week that I’m proud of, even if they seem small (i.e. responding to all my unread Facebook messages). Little things. Next week, my parents and cousin and I will spend a few days at my grandparents’ little camp on a lake: no cell service, no internet. That will be good.