A Full Calendar Does Not Mean a Happy Life
Or, how I learned to stop planning and love the open space

Photo by Waldemar Brandt on Unsplash

I come from a long line of certified Type A planners, who show we care by planning ahead for everything from milestones to meals. My mother has already shared with me the playlist for her funeral — not joking, it has some lovely David Gray tracks on it and is designed to celebrate her life and not be too depressing. My grandmother knew she would have four children and cultivated different skills in each of them — one is a lawyer (my mother), one is a doctor (like my grandmother), one is a teacher, and one is an artist. Together I have always considered them to be a sort of super brood. As a mother, I have earned my own planner stripes by thinking ahead for years, from who needs vaccinations in which month (the baby, the dog, all of us before a tropical vacation) to what activities my kids will do in what season to keep them entertained and exploring new pursuits. I’ve nodded in satisfaction at a full calendar for the months ahead: concerts, dinner dates, theater tickets, swimming lessons, business trips.

COVID has put a nearly year-long pause on all of that — and in doing so, has caused me to reflect on the value of having no plans and being fully present.

I can say with a completely straight face that over the years I have considered my calendar as a garden to be cultivated. Seeds of professional development, watered by fun and enough time with friends to keep important relationships, travel to places I’ve saved articles about for years. My bucket list is a dynamic Google document, where I’ve been privileged to check off many items over the years. Stand in front of the Burj Khalifa, go skydiving, see the Northern lights (that one is only a half-check because it was very cloudy that evening in Northern Norway). But planning like this leaves no room for the wildflowers of the unexpected, and honestly can also be quite self-indulgent in that you are perpetually responding to your own anticipated desires instead of those of your nearest and dearest.

When our calendars are open, we respond to the needs and wants that we have in the moment.

My baby is hungry, so I feed her and let her sleep on my chest as long as she wants to. My soul needs to read a good novel with a strong female heroine, so I download three and read them all. My husband just wants me to sit next to him on the couch and rub his back, so most of the time, I do. Our travel is micro-exploration of our own neighborhood. Our big event over the past several months has been visiting the charmingly overgrown flower farm down the street from our house. One day, my son found a frog pond, so we make it a point to check in on those guys every time we go. I buy flowers from the stand and hope that they can stay fecund and in business. Our minds are more open when we are not rushing to the next thing. I’ve started writing again, and idly relished periods of reflection on what actually brings me joy, as opposed to more outward symbols of success like panel photos on LinkedIn or a curated Instagram. This is not a take-down of social media — I’ve spent just as much time on TikTok learning from and falling in love with the quirky humanity of people all over the world.

Planning is a skill of executive function and organization. The feedback loop of plan- implement- complete- retro- plan has served me well professionally. I’m currently a product manager and have managed non-profit programs and products for years. Planning ahead is well-received in a corporate structure and makes donors and bosses happy. They want to know that you are worrying about all possible contingencies so that they don’t have to. At a daily level, it’s amazing what you can do if you spend a few minutes planning ahead for each meeting. What are our key questions? What is the aim that each person is bringing to the conversation and how can we work together to address them? I’m not saying stop planning at all, and nor will I. But, in COVID times, plans change faster than you can make them. Whole industries have adapted five years worth of change in a month, to survive. So I’m trying to be more open and flexible at work as well. Not wasting my time gaming out how something might go and preparing for every alternative, but listening to the unexpected and learning from ambiguity.

Now, when I look ahead and see a blank calendar, I see potential. I see warmth, tucked in at home with my precious family. I see respect for public health and am proud of us all for doing what we can do to keep our friends, neighbors, and vulnerable strangers safe. I see the ability to grow, and be free, without an overarching plan that’s prewritten an imagined story. I see me, doing whatever I need to be doing at that moment.

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['Lara Henneman']
['Creativity', 'Productivity', '2020', 'Growth', 'Family']