Pace yourself, Effie!

Spring has come to the Sandspit at last, and the garden tools are coming out with the daisies and the tulips, basking in the sunlight after a long gray winter.

But they're not supposed to be in the picture; wouldn't this be a better image if I used a little Photoshop, took out the secateurs and the hose, made the grass a little greener, the sky a little bluer?

The problem is, once you get started cleaning up a photograph like this, where do you stop? I've already taken out the standpipe on the roof; should I take out the electric meter as well? What about those dead leaves on the right? And wouldn't the walk be SO much prettier if it were red brick? Halfway into what becomes a lengthy project, the cat will jump on the keyboard, and all my work will be gone. Better to just do the simple things and let the viewer's imagination supply the rest.

Spring comes, and the urge to fix everything is not far behind. Now that it's warm enough to stand being outside, we begin to notice the grass in the gutters, the pine needles on the roof, the dirty windows, the aging lawn furniture. What to fix? What to toss? What to replace? Where do we begin? And once we begin, when do we stop? After a long season of inactivity, we don't want to take on too much the first day or we'll hurt ourselves and risk being out for the season.

On the other hand, we don't want to tackle something really obvious and then lose heart in the middle.

Life changes can be like that, too. You go through these long wintry dry spells, and finally you feel your energy start to come back and you want to solve everything in the space of a heartbeat. Quit the job, dump the husband, put the kids in boarding school, go on a diet, take up exercising, move to a new town, buy a new house... just chuck it all and start over, why don't you?

Before each performance of this play that I'm in we have a little bonding time: we stand in a circle, hold hands, and pass around important reminders: Diction. Focus. Energy. Pace. Each night we get a new word, but we have to remember all the previous nights' words as well. We start small and build up; it's a way of pacing ourselves, not taking on too much but at the same time making a concerted effort to change.

The garden is like that, too. If you take on too much the first day, your knees might give out. Or you might not have the energy to put away your tools at the end of the day. It's all about pacing.

Need to make a change in your life? Try pacing it, starting small. Just weed a little corner of the garden. Just commit to 10 minutes of prayer or meditation or exercise, and make it an easy commitment to keep: don't schedule it for the minute the kids get home from school, or the interruptions will frustrate you, and you'll quit. Give yourself a break on weekends, when life gets out of routine into topsy-turvy land, and remember to come back to it on Monday.

Set yourself a simple goal you're pretty sure you can meet: a cigarette every other hour instead of every hour. Got a whole list of projects to take on? Tackle just one thing on the to-do list, something you can finish, and don't start anything else until this one is done. And most importantly, don't try for perfection: just concentrate on improvement. One day at a time, one step at a time, and things inevitably improve. And sometimes, as with this picture, you just need to say, "That's enough; this task is done," and move on.