I was listening to a podcast this morning on financial goal setting — one of the many podcasts I breezed through on a whim, since podcasts are free, and I feel like I’m garage sale-ing for information without achieving any clutter. Such a deal!.
This particular podcast, although aimed at our financial plan in life, had language so simple that my mind wandered (as it often does the moment monetary planning comes up) into the emotional. The speaker was setting up a moral. She said that in a 1979 survey done at Harvard, a large group of graduates were selected to state whether they:
1) had no goals in particular (They were about 84%.)
2) had an idea of set goals for themselves for their future, but they were not defined (They were 13%.)
or
3) they had actually formulated and written these goals down. (They were only 3%.)
Ten years later, those surveyed were interviewed again. The ones who had had an idea of goals for themselves, that 13% group, were earning double what the 84% group were earning. But even more remarkably, the 3% group who had actually formulated and written their goals down were earning TEN times more.
The moral, she suggested, was to formulate and write down your goals if you really intend to get somewhere.
It occurred to me at that point that I had spent my childhood and all through into my 30s writing down my plans and goals and dreams. It was called a journal.
It occurred to me that I had asked in writing for a particular kind of man-of-my-dreams, and that I had in fact gotten him.
I had asked for freedom and travel to Japan, and I had done it.
I had planned to be a certain kind of creative being, and I became her.
But none of those goals brought what I had expected would be achieved by their attainment. The results were not as expected. And yet, they were still valuable.
The lover disappeared, leaving friendship in his wake; but it was a friendship that couldn’t be broken by the worst of storms.
Japan was not the place I thought it was, and I could not live there; yet it changed me in a million unforeseeable ways.
The creative person I planned on being was almost too large a pair of shoes to fill. I couldn’t sustain it, and yet, I toy with returning to her again and again. I have a proud past as both reward and impetus.
I have come to the conclusion that we should in fact write our goals down: but know that they will need to be well overshot of what you expect to actually achieve. I realized I need to dream even higher and plan more.
I’m going to start focusing on some intense over-fantasizing and planning right now:
1. I would like to live in a VERY LARGE DWELLING. VERY VERY LARGE. And beautiful. I need to find out what to do to achieve large. (Steppes of Mongolia?).
2. I would like to live in a much smaller body, and I need to actually find something that will allow me to stop deterring myself from it. I need a love of something that will make me so happy to work to lose this weight that I will love it for itself, and the weight will stay off. (Now what the hell IS that thing?) I will try to do at least three new things by end of year to see if they will be the thing that sticks. (Yes, three. That’s not being conservative. I know my lack of interest in this department all too well.)
3. I would like to live among people that I can see everyday and live closely with again; a group of friends who will surround me. Which means that I will need to find where the people such as me actually exist, and connect with them. My goal is to find at least three such people by end of year. (First strategy: Buy new iPod phone, locate all the swishiest Starbucks with it, and start networking by flashing aforementioned iPod phone.) (Well I don’t know if that would hook all the right sorts, but I’m definitely hooking somebody. Soon.)
4. I intend to tour Europe within three years. (I think this one is pretty achievable — but I want to do it without it being a tourist hell. I want it to have a real soul. I want to come home with connections.
5. I intend to have a dog within five years.
6. I intend to do everything in my power to increase my husband’s feng shui, because Man, does he need it.
7. I intend to throw away some old-life flotsam so I can make room for new-life flotsam. I realized hanging onto my old junk was actually a real need in my soul to hang on to the creative life I used to lead. I need to find a way to get the creativity back and keep moving.
8. I don’t think I can plan for this, but I’m going to put it into the atmosphere: I want to have a HUGE windfall of money, and be able to do a lot of good with it. A little for me, and the rest for the daughters of the world that have been put on doorsteps. Particularly in China and Korea.
9. I want my husband to not just love me, but “fall in love” with me, when we are old.
10. I want my words to have some meaning and permanency for the people I leave behind; and failing that, the music I have loved and sung.
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