Listen to The Saturday Stoke
I’ve been looking backwards lately. Something I do this time every year. I steal away for a long walk in the woods, or I’ll take a drive into the country just to think.
It’s how I macro-edit my life. In the writing world, a macro-edit is what you might call taking a thirty-thousand-foot view of the material, and seeing if the narrative flows if the language sings; if the thesis of the manuscript plays out from chapter to chapter if the outline of the book makes sense. The whole purpose is not to tear down the work, but to do your utmost to shape the manuscript into a wonderful reading experience.
Now, imagine doing that around this time every year, but not with a manuscript; with your life.
Subscribe to The Saturday Stoke Podcast
I look back over the path I’ve tread to this point in the year, from last winter, into spring, through summer, and the early autumn months and highlight the learning moments, the not-so-pretty-moments, and the filled-to-the-brim-with-joy moments. Of course, I’m not using an actual highlighter, that would get messy; just the highlighter in my mind.
But looking back constitutes only part of the macro-edit. What about the right now; yesterday, the last hour, tomorrow? How am I finishing the year? Am I drowning in my work? Am I drowning in despair? Am I not telling my friends and loved ones how I feel about things that matter? Have I become a hermit with my feelings? Am I locked into the things I think I’m supposed to be doing, making excuses like, “I have to get this done,” or “This is what a parent is supposed to do,” or “I’m not supposed to have a life—I need to keep working, keep after the cause,” whatever the cause may be.
Do we forget that the good things in life, the things we are supposed to be doing day in and day out can also drown us, can also pull us under with a subtle current? We can be there one minute and gone the next.
Stress can silent us. Disappointment can embarrass us. Failure can hobble us.
And this is what the macro-edit helps us do: like with the manuscript, it shows us the bits of our lives that need a little work—perhaps a little rewriting or the rearrangement of a chapter.
Of course, a macro-edit of life can only help you discover things that need fixed or mended, healed. There is a next step you must take.
Here’s a quick hack for taking the next step beyond the macro-edit of life.
Reset. That’s right. It’s time to power down the computer inside your chest we like to call the heart, along with the super-processor inside your skull we like to call our minds.
“But Tim, what is a reset of the heart and mind?” you say.
“I'm glad you asked,” I reply.
A reset does not need to be a life-altering change experience. It just needs to be a loose span of time, perhaps the holiday time you take off over the next month or so. And during that time, you need to change the routine, throw a wrench in your normal.
“But Tim,” you continue, with you light inquiry, “What does that even look like? I have so many obligations careening at me at this very moment—even on a Saturday as I listen to your stoke.”
Yes, I’m aware. I too am ducking the multiple of perceived obligations pressing in upon my ever-beating heart. This little reset I’m encouraging you to do might consist of taking a drive out of town by yourself, or with your family. Drive to the ocean—see it in the cold. Drive to the mountains—stand in their grandeur. Take a walk downtown and people watch. Do something and go somewhere irregular for you.
It’s okay, the world’s not going to stop if you step off of the treadmill for an extended weekend so that you can grab a little perspective.
Recently I sensed our family needed a reset day; a change of pace. So we drove to Pisgah National Forest and hiked Linville Falls Trail, an easy yet ruggedly beautiful trail. The girls skipped and chatted and explored and hung on massive roots jutting from the steeply sloping mountainside. We drove the Blue Ridge P arkway home and, on the way, found a rustic pub in the quaint mountain town of blowing rock called The Foggy Rock. We scarfed down burgers and pizza and brownies and finally drove home.
When I tucked the girls in and prayed with them, each one squeezed my neck and told me how much they loved the day. Their hearts were full, I could tell.
It was a needed change of pace for us, for them. For weeks they’d worked hard on school as did my wife as she now serves as a writing and grammar tutor for our Classical Conversations co-op. And I needed to reset too. Days earlier I had just texted one of my closest friends and told him how I needed to breath in some mountain air; see the world with fresh eyes; clear my head.
Zion, my seven-year-old, prayed: “Dear Lord, thank you for roots and the trees and mountains and the sunset on the blue ridge and the waterfalls.” She was very specific with what spoke to her heart.
I listened and smiled and thanked God too.
Getting bogged down happens to everyone. And the year can pile up on us like sacks of wheat on a mule. But we need to remember that life isn’t a bog we need to slog through, especially by ourselves. It’s about the moments of love we stack up each day—moments that fill us up with what we need most, moments that delight our heavenly Father.
The wonderful thing about taking a few days to reset is that the act itself performs the macro-edit. When we give ourselves space to look back and look forward, memory and hope work their magic and scrub our hearts and minds clean.
So get your mental highlighters out and stay stoked my friends.
Consider Supporting Us
Join The Edges Family
And get stoked.
Email Address Sign Up
Great content. Half the calories.
Buckle-up buttercup.
The Saturday Stoke #15