THOU SHALT NOT SQUANDER

At this stage in my life - admittedly a late stage - I am searching for meaning. Answers to those musical questions,  “What’s it all about, Alfie?,” or “Is That All There Is?”. I need more compelling guidelines for the time ahead than watching my salt and fat intake, eating plenty of fiber, staying off ladders, and being “mindful.”

So I’m reading a couple of books about this sort of thing. One of the books is by a Buddhist Zen master and best-selling author, fairly impressive credentials and certainly far above my limited literary abilities. The other book is a compilation of thoughts and quotes for each day of the year, from January 1 to December 31. As if you hadn’t figured that out. Admittedly I came across this book in the middle of the year, but I cheat occasionally and read something from an earlier month. Chronology is not essential to effectiveness. 

I came across a phrase or a quote, not sure which, that I find meaningful. In fact, it’s so meaningful that I wrote it on an index card and taped it to my office door. It says, “I will look upon this day as a gift, not to be squandered.” I like that thought. It usually helps me get out of bed in the morning. Usually, but not always. Sometimes I begin the worrying process as soon as I open my eyes. “What kind of worries?” you may ask. The usual culprits. The roof, the furnace, the screens, the yard, the woodpecker who arrived a few days ago, that pain in my lower back, that pain in my right shoulder (can I play tennis today?), my heart, my liver, my kidneys, my teeth. It’s a really long list, and with very little effort I could stay in bed until noon just running through all the possibilities that might befall me that day, or certainly tomorrow.

Most of the time, at least since I discovered that phrase, I simply say to myself, “I will look upon this day as a gift, not to be squandered.” And I’ll pop out of bed, throw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, feed the dog, make coffee, decide on Shredded Wheat or Plenty O’Fiber (or whatever it’s called), and I am on my way to positive, constructive things. Recently I’ve added a 15-minute meditation to that morning ritual, guided by an app on my iPad. 

Not this morning though. I let Lexi out and heard the rhythmic drumming of the Kirkwood High School Marching Band in the distance. They were practicing for this weekend’s football clash. I like marching bands, so Lexi and I jumped into the car, even before coffee, and hurried over to the football field. Sure enough, the band was lined up, all three thousand of them (at least that’s how it seemed), in school clothes. Yes, uniforms are a necessity for a band. Just like The Music Man said.  

We listened for about ten minutes, then came home where I resumed the morning ritual. It was actually an energizing way to start my day. I don’t know what song they were playing, but I don’t think John Phillip Sousa is on the top ten list anymore. (Side note: I played trumpet in the Washington U. ROTC Marching Band in 1956, until I bumped into a tuba player and cut my lip on my braces. Mom put an end to that right away.)

Back to that phrase. Here’s the word that sticks with me. “Squandered.” An interesting choice, that word. It’s not one you come across frequently, if at all. I can’t remember the last time someone used that in a sentence. I know what it means, as I’m sure you do. “To use or spend extravagantly or wastefully.” Ben Franklin wrapped it up neatly with “Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.” Amen, Ben.

I’m not going to give you any advice. You wouldn’t take it anyway. All I can say is that this “don’t squander” concept seems to work for me. On most days anyway.

But you’ve spent enough time reading this article. Don’t squander any more of your time. Go do something that makes you, or somebody else, feel good. You have the gift.