I walk to work every morning, at least as far as the T station near my apartment (Broadway), sometimes I take the long route from my destination T station (Kendall), and sometimes, on days when I'm particularly inspired, I walk all 2.9 miles to work (or 4.6 km for my Canadian friends).
I do love my fair city of Boston. And I like to think that it loves me back.
One thing I love most about my walks over the last year is watching the construction take shape day by day (I suppose this is a principal difference between walkers and drivers... I didn't used to feel this way about construction when I drove everywhere, but I digress).
It is kind of a spiritual experience for me, watching an ugly vacant lot become a 30-foot deep pit the size of a city block; seeing the earth around the edges being held in place by steel walls that have to be driven in deep, one at a time; watching the foundation being poured and the 5-story cranes assembled; and then slowly, steel beam by steel beam, the building takes shape.
It seems like each step will last forever, that they'll never finish driving in the steel walls that hold up the edges, the hole is just too big. Or that the building will always be a shell of steel beams and concrete floors.
But somehow, after enough effort and slow progress, the walls go up, the lights go on, and the people move in.
Over the last 18 months since I've been walking to my job in East Cambridge, I've seen four buildings completed and one old office site demolished and turned into a grassy park where people are now playing soccer.
And every single one moved so slowly that I hardly noticed the change each day.
That's been my experience with this week's small tweak so far. I've been spending 10-20 minutes each evening cleaning up the closet in my bedroom, and even though some work happens each night, and my closet is cleaner as a result, I sometimes doubt that it will ever be something I could open and not be at least slightly horrified and depressed about.
The thing is, though, I know how this story will end. Everything I've ever pursued has taken the sort of time that these buildings take. Slow, sometimes interminable progress, is the name of the game for anything where the result will be worth it.
Of course, having a clean closet isn't even in the same ballpark as becoming an expressive musician, a helpful business consultant, or a strong yogi/athlete. But it has the same characteristics of being simultaneously rewarding on a small daily level—because you're making changes and moving the energy through fresh areas of your life—and building positive habits and momentum.
Momentum Is Not Just Part of the Picture,
It's the Whole Picture.
By making small changes that you continue with for one week, two weeks, and beyond, you are building new momentum. You'll find that it's hard at first—it always is—but eventually the thing that was hard just becomes the new normal. And when something is normal, you do it because… that's just what you do!
Meditating as a process of clearing mental clutter starts to build the momentum of clarity and depth within you. Working with a sense of purpose and focus results in more inspired work possibly even done in shorter amounts of time.
And by cleaning your home or other space, if you stick with it long enough, you might just find it start to resemble a Zen garden! And wouldn't it be nice to live in a Zen garden? :)
