Where can you do Less?

Photo by Mel Poole on Unsplash

“Lighten up on yourself. No one is perfect. Gently accept your humanness.”

~Deborah Day

As a youngster, I was taught to ask myself, “Where can I do more?” and to be on the lookout for opportunities to do just that. To be the one to pitch in, to volunteer, to take charge if need be rather than wait for others to do so. In moderation, this philosophy can build character, and I respect my parents’ desire to create hardworking, industrious, and generous children.

But as I’ve matured, I’ve found that at times it’s equally important to ask, “Where can I do less?” I’ll illustrate using an example from my own life.

Last spring, a longstanding member of our book club, who often led our meetings, was out for a few months taking care of an ailing relative. I asked the founder if she wanted me to figure out a schedule for our next book The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, and I volunteered to lead several chapters.

I knew we would feel the loss of the missing member, and wanted to pitch in, though facilitating even among these caring women is not my favorite thing to do. As it turned out, the final chapter of the book was so rich that our discussion of it turned into three meetings, all of which I led.

So often it’s never just one thing. The tasks multiply.

When it came time for our fall book, Einstein and the Rabbi by Naomi Levy , I wondered if I should make the same offer. No sooner did I have the thought than a little voice in my head said, “You did a lot in the spring. Maybe you should take a break and let someone else do it.” Still, wanting to help, I was planning to talk to the founder about it.

It’s hard to go against conditioning that is so strong that it feels like instinct.

The next day I got an email and learned that someone else had already done the work. She also sent a list along with a signup sheet for us to volunteer to host or facilitate.

I felt an instant relief.

All it took was a slight pause on my part, a days’ hesitation, and someone else had jumped in.

One of the things I love most about this book club is how everyone contributes, so I wasn’t surprised. People take turns hosting, doing meditations, and organizing our potlucks. As the new season approaches, we take turns gathering suggestions for our next book. I suspect we have a wealth of “Where can I do more?” personalities in our group.

Still, even knowing this, I was ready to do what could be considered more than my share.

Recognizing this tendency in myself, when I notice that any of my friends appear to be overloaded and overwhelmed, I’ve developed the habit of asking them where they can do less. At first they look at me as if I’ve said something in a foreign language. I repeat myself, and then I start to see the wheels turning and the idea beginning to percolate.

Many good ideas, in the extreme, turn into liabilities.

Given all the need in our communities, especially this time of year, it’s often good to stretch ourselves to help out a little more often. When that makes sense for you, I applaud your efforts to step up and to consider the possibilities.

But if you are feeling drained, resentful, and are wondering why you always seem to be doing more than others, perhaps a little balance is in order.

Doing less for others when it’s appropriate means more time for you. It’s a gift you can give yourself that says, “I am important, too.” Remember what Abileen Clark says in the movie The Help: “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.”

So I’ll ask you today, in case you need to hear it:

Where can you do less?

What can you offload or pull back from, even if you do it gradually?

Give it some thought, but be prepared for some initial resistance on your part. It’s nice to be needed.

But you may find that it’s even nicer to be treated!

Affectionately,

Elaine