When I don't pay attention, things get boring .......

I am still in the land of sun. The locals complain now of occasional rains (what my Irish relatives would simply call "a bit of a mist") and cold (temperatures that would pass for summer in some parts of the country). I find it all fantastic. We all do complain, don't we? Some more than others. Me, more than most. I am trying to change that.


In the schedule of presentations and classes that I am attending, I am embarrassed to say that my initial reaction on seeing the topic or the speaker is almost always to groan, complain inwardly that it is not going to be good, think that I could give as good a presentation off-the-cuff, and wonder if I should play hooky. Fortunately, for this one sabbatical season I've had the good sense to keep my mouth shut. Every single presentation and class has been good, even stellar. There has not been a dud yet. All are worth the time. So my initial evaluation - based on nearly no information - was far off, judgmental, hyper critical, and very, very, wrong. I'm trying to learn from this. 


Was I always this negative? Perhaps. And sometimes I've had good reason. I have endured countless hours of tedium, struggling to stay awake during boring homilies, tedious classes, and simplistic programs. Somewhere along the line, I fell into the habit of assuming that all such events were going to be boring, tedious, and simplistic. But of course they are not. However, my pre-conceived ideas made even the best of them seem less than they were. When I expect boring stuff, I don't listen well. When I  don't listen well, I miss the subtleties and maybe more, and when I miss half the content, of course I will be bored, find the presentation insipid, and be disappointed.


If this pattern held true only for formal presentations, it would be bad enough. But I must confess that I am coming to conclude that it is a general pattern. In so much of my life I assume the negative, or at least the mediocre. I decide that I know what it is about before it happens. I form conclusions about people I haven't yet met.  I prevent myself from being surprised. I set myself up for judgment and disappointment. I expect disappointment, I want perfection, see only reality, and then complain that the real, is, well, really what exists.


I am trying to do some serious shifting of my mental map while on sabbatical. It is hard going. And it is difficult to describe. I find that there is a deep well that needs to be re-dug. I'm digging like crazy. I'm trying to throw out lots of stuff: unhelpful voices in my head from childhood, bullies whose names I remember, patterns that are not useful, thoughts that suck out any possibility of joy, and other muck. I'm trying to make sure I keep the good stuff, and use it to build into the future, wherever that is and whatever I will be doing. And that is the really interesting issue, isn't it? It is a blessed time, a time full of anxiety and possibility. It is not an easy time.


The sabbath time is short, the day is far spent, and in the words of the never satisfied St. Francis: "Let us begin again, for up to now we have done nothing."