There Will Be Space for This

Listing as a Sustaining Practice

A perfect path on the island of Inis Mor (which was on a list for fifteen years before I was actually standing there). June 2023.

When I moved back to Austin (after having left for two years in an ill-fated attempt to plan too far ahead and run away from Texas before I really got to know Texas), I had coffee with an acquaintance from grad school who I admired from afar but never really crossed paths with. It was a lovely conversation, and one thing I remember talking about was the intrigue of making lists of things to watch or read or see, and how, sometimes, the act of making the list can actually be more fulfilling than the actual watching/reading/seeing. 

At the time we were talking, I couldn’t put my finger on how it could possibly be that a list of potential things was better than doing the things - after all, it’s not like it was a to-do list of items to be checked off, necessarily, or a list of appointments to make. The things on the lists were generally pleasant.

I am a list person. I’m a to-do list person and a checkbox person and an agenda person. I know that we’re in a phase where the zeitgeist fights back against lists (which I’m not saying isn’t at least partially valid), but I simply can’t let go of a tactic that keeps me calm and focused and making sense. So of course an aspirational list of cultural things makes some initial sense. But the satisfaction I get in list-making is different than that which I derive from list-completion. It’s more whimsical, more curious, more, “Could I became a person who likes zombie fiction if it’s well-written enough?” 

This week, I think I figured out why the lists are helpful. I’m still trying to read this book about time management (but I didn’t manage my time well, and so it had to go back on my Libby “holds” list), which essentially (from what I can tell from the chapter and a half that I finished) advocates that you should only do things that matter to you, cut out as much maintenance stuff (i.e. email) as possible, and accept from the very beginning that you can’t do everything and shouldn’t try. While I have a major question for the author about what kinds of jobs he thinks that people who are reading this book actually have (maybe he addresses how to deal with mandates in public education later in a later chapter), I do think there’s something to accepting the complete inevitability of finishing every piece of art or culture or writing that you would want to. So I think the list-making, first, helps to make an infinite world of things (books, podcasts, cities, etc.) more manageable.

Second, and more importantly, these lists feel like hope. Unlike a to-do list, they don’t tether you to a job or a task or a set of recurring items that you may or may not actually care about. Instead, they are an anchor into both the present (what you are drawn to right now in this very moment) and a possible, hopeful space (what you might like to experience later).  In a world where everything feels topsy-turvy at best, having a long (but still attainable) list of books to read or podcast episodes to listen to feels like reassurance: yes, I will, some day, have free time to be able to read these books. Yes, there will be a habitable planet long enough for me to read at least some of these books (even though many of the books on said list are about how this assertion is likely not accurate). Yes, ideas in these podcasts matter even in a deeply bleak political landscape. The list reassures me that it’s worth looking to a future without necessarily planning for a future - just knowing, in this moment, that there is space for a future is enough. 

There’s also hope in that question about zombie novels, or anything else - with a media list, I put anything on it that sounds interesting, even if it’s far from my current usual intake. My lists are aspirational, but they’re also intuitive - I have books on there because I liked the cover, podcasts about topics I know nothing about but created by people I like, any type of media that simply struck (or looked like it might strike) an emotional cord at one point or another. Books that I’ve had on a list for years and skipped over suddenly call to me again. I had a ton of books about yoga on a list for years that I never read, and then this year, I read at least some of them. I needed to be ready for them, but it’s reassuring that my other self, from those years ago, knew that someday, maybe I’d be ready for a version of existence that I hadn’t yet fully grown into.

As an English teacher, I had my students make “to read” lists for the year. Getting kids re-engaged in reading who have struggled due to an over-emphasis on testing and a whole host of education inequities is tough, and I will be the first one to admit that not very many books on those lists got read. But I also think, given the revelation that list-making can be aspirational and hopeful that maybe, just maybe, there was some value for my students in making the list, and, maybe, just maybe, they’ll eventually find their way back to themselves as readers and listeners of stories.

A completed, but not checked off, To-Read list.

None of this is a water-tight argument; it’s the first day back at work for full days, and there is still a lot that needs doing before I can welcome students back. My to-do list is more top of mind than my hopeful lists, and time to do anything that isn’t planning/facilitating professional development, moving boxes around my classroom, or planning for, you know, my ACTUAL class, is limited. But one of the key tenets of both learning and teaching is that sometimes you have to start before you’re ready, rather than waiting to reach some kind of peak preparedness. I will have students in my room two weeks from now, whether I’m ready or not, and I’m going to send this newsletter that I day wrote it rather than giving the customary several days for revision and editing and call it ready enough.

Hope you’re feeling ready enough for whatever this week has in store for you!

It was a joy to see those of you who were able to make it to Thursday’s practice! I have one more class in August on the schedule at the moment, focused on New Beginnings (and highly recommended for educators!). I hope to be able to add more classes once school gets going, but am also trying to keep a reasonable scope. You can register HERE.

My all-time favorite list development tool: NPR’s Book Concierge (called something else now, but I love the name too much to let go.

This book, which is both very funny and so far, quite insightful, regarding how philosophy approaches modern moral conundrums.

Lisa Olivera’s newsletter “Human Stuff” is one of my weekly touchpoints, especially on weeks full of transitions and perceptual chaos.

Thankful that Google, for all its faults, can help us find the answers to many challenges of living, including Canvas, the name of somewhat-obscure-and-only-recently-learned muscles (found by literally typing “muscle that connects lower back to thigh”), and a car that won’t turn off.

I’d love to hear what kinds of lists you’re making in this season, and any other thoughts you have about listing, as a sustaining practice or more generally!