About My Fear of Motion

As part of my Winter of Motion, I've designed a new task-management system for myself, engineered to be gentle yet resolute. So far, it's an improvement over my typical strategies: good intentions, sweet forgetfulness, and sheer panic. I've managed to move one or two stubborn denizens of my In-Progress list over to the Finished list, which feels great! So great, that I've promoted a couple of lifetime members of the Someday list on up to In-Progress, and that feels—well, that's why I'm here outside Molka Dot's 'Cords 'n Coffee, where Dr. Jane Nodderman gets her accordion serviced. (Nobody drinks the coffee, not even Dot.)

It turns out there's a reason I've left these things undone, and the reason is I don't want to do them. I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to. I want them to be done. I want to live in a world where they're done, and were done by me. It's just the doing I'm not wild about, and that's what I'm hoping Dr. Jane can...hey, that's her! Come on!

Dr. Jane! Dr. Jane! Hold up a second. Can I ask you a question?

JN: Tom, what are you doing here? Are you—are you lurking?

No, I'm not lurking. Be a funny place to lurk. No, I'm just oot 'n aboot. Here for my cuppa. What about you?

JN: We've talked about lying, Tom. What happens when we lie?

[Hangs head] We make ourselves a part of the problem.

JN: That's right. Are you a part of the problem right now?

Maybe. But the biggest part is the problem, and that's what I'm trying to ask about. Do you ever have times where you have to do something you don't want to do.

JN: Yes, I've had that experience.

So what do you do?

JN: I visualize the problem going away.

Does that work?

JN: Not at the moment.

See, I have these things I need to get done, that won't go away until I do them, but I don't know how to make myself get started. What should I do?

JN: Why don't you want to do them?

I'm afraid, I guess.

JN: Afraid of?

Well, they might be hard.

JN: Will they be hard? Is that an accurate perception?

I mean, they might. It's stuff like getting in shape, remodeling the bathroom, trying to get my book published. I bet they'll be expensive. They might even hurt.

JN: So you're concerned they may be challenging tasks, is that right? They might be annoying, and take a long time, and use up all your money, and hurt your body and your feelings, and after all that the likeliest outcome is failure?

I don't think you're helping.

JN: I don't think you're a client. Been nice chatting with you.

Please. It's supposed to be my Winter of Motion. I've told everybody, and I'm really stuck. I need your help.

JN: Alright, then, I'll help. I used to be an actuary—did you know?

You did?

JN: I did. You're how old, now?

Forty-seven.

JN: Forty-seven year old male, non-smoker, occasional drinker, largely sedentary. There's an eighty-three percent chance that your to-do list will erase itself in the next thirty years. Make it thirty-five, and it's ninety-four percent certain.

This is helping?

JN: At some point on the looming horizon, the things you've done and left undone will stop mattering at all. You just need to be patient.

I guess you're saying I should face my fears and get stuff done while I have the chance?

JN: I'm saying the rest of us have cause for hope. If you'll pardon me, my instrument's heavy. Wouldn't want to drop it on your toe.

No. Of course. Say hi to Dot.

JN: If you need to accost me in the future, try my taekwon-do class. I'm there most evenings.

Thanks, Dr. Jane. I'll do that.

JN: [Ominous chuckling]