Much Ado About A Schedule
When two adults enter into an arrangement that makes them live together day in and day out, there are bound to be little squabbles and disagreements. Literature is full of tales of such woeful or comic conflicts. But what we don't hear about often are the little jokes, the little surprises, the little inside references that make your heart melt like caramel.
When I was newly married to my partner, he discovered something strange about me that he had not known before. It's not just that he had not known that about me...he had not known that about anyone. He had not known that such a thing - such a habit - existed on the planet to such an extent. You see, I had this habit then to make myself a very rigorous schedule every morning, where every single tick of the clock was accounted for, like below.
My partner found this habit hilarious. It was particularly funny to him that I allocated time in my schedule for things that were hardly in my control, like human bodily functions.
My proclivity to schedule my time meticulously came out of early messages I got as a child. My father often drummed into me the importance of utilizing my time effectively. Even as a girl growing up in the 80s and 90s - when the allure of social media and smartphones was not there - I could fill my days with a thousand inane things. I could gossip with my neighbors. I could watch hours of TV. I could stand by the kutti suvar - the little compound wall enclosing the portico - of my house, people-watching. I could idle away my time in numerous ways.
But Indian schools were competitive. I had to apply myself with diligence to my studies if I hoped to make something of myself. And I did hope - despite my childish tendencies - to make something of myself. So, my dad encouraged me to pay attention to how I was using my time, to write down where it went. We often say in busines to measure what matters. This habit to write down where I was spending my time was a rudimentary version of that wisdom.
But instead of writing down my activities ex post facto, I began writing down what I intended to do in the coming hours. How I wanted to spend my day. Gradually, this became a habit which stayed with me for many years. I made good use of that habit.
Over time, however, it started to become cumbersome. Instead of letting my written-down plan gently guide me, I started allowing it to dictate to me. If I couldn't do something that was written down at the written-down time, I became disappointed. I let that disappointment color the rest of my day. I would carp at interruptions. I sealed my door to anything spontaneous. In short, I became too rigid.
That is when I realized my plan had become my master. It dawned on me that I didn't want to become a "successful but unpleasant" person. So, I decided to wean myself off my "planning habit". Don't get me wrong: I am still a planner. But age has made to softer toward my plans. I now plan the broad brushstrokes and allow serendipity to take care of the rest.
It turns out my dad is also a planner, and he uses his ability to plan and structure his days in another ingenious way. He is visiting us now from India, staying at our place for a few months. Many of you who follow me and/or have read my book know how much I adore this wonderful man. But now that I have the good fortune to spend weeks together with him once again, I can observe his habits and tendencies better. Very early on during his stay with us, I saw that his systems and routines were his secret weapon against boredom.
My dad has been retired for several years now. But, unlike many elderly people I know, he has never complained of being bored. He has not talked about his present life as being purposeless. Older folks in our community often remark, "Death is starting to beckon and life is starting to say farewell". My dad, though, is firmly rooted in life. He still writes poetry. He publishes books. He volunteers at a spiritual center. He reads. I knew all this before. But what I realized - after many years away from him - is the amount of structure he creates for himself.
My dad is a creature of routines and habits. It turns out that every time he finds himself in new places, in new surroundings, he assesses things and quickly weaves himself a structured web. This web of structure gives him comfort, but most importantly, it creates a system that helps him stay mentally and physically healthy. Mental health and physical health are important concerns at any age and especially so at old age, when the risk of loneliness, depression and other psychological ailments increase. Having your plate full with things that excite you becomes a powerful antidote.
You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems. Your goal is your desired outcome. Your system is the collection of daily habits that will get you there.
Atomic Habits, James Clear
Your daily system and structure shape your habits. And as James Clear explains in his brilliant book Atomic Habits, your habits and routines define your identity. Whether you aspire to be healthy as you age or to be successful in achieving big goals, such routines and habits are the backbone of your progress.
Granted, just like I did with my painstakingly detailed schedules in my early years, one can take this structure too far. As with many things in life, it is a balance. A good structure should guide you, not constrain you. It should help you reach your goals, not prevent you from exploring new possibilities. It should enhance your creativity, not stifle it. It should give you confidence, not anxiety. It should make you adaptable, not rigid.
As a leader, you need to have a vision, but also be open to feedback and change. The same applies to managing your time. You need a solid framework, but also the flexibility to adjust it as you go. Like graphene, your structures should be strong yet pliable.