THE BEGINNING IS HALF THE ENDING . . .

Or so say the wise people of the Motherland.

This past holiday weekend, instead of sleeping in for an obscene number of hours, I've had need every morning to wake up at an early hour and prepare myself for the day. Knowing this, I moved my coffeemaker out from its customary place in a lower cabinet under my countertop, the coffee filters out from their customary place in an upper cabinet above the mugs, and the airtight container holding the regular coffee closer to the plug into which I would plug the coffeemaker every morning. I set out a mug, a spoon and a packet of Splenda; I filled a coffee filter with a few tablespoons of coffee and poured water into the basin of the coffeemaker. Everything was set for the next morning's cup o' joe.

This morning, as I was pouring myself a scrumptious cup of sludge, it occurred to me that I don't make my own coffee enough, even on weekends that I have all the time in the world to chill out over a cup. And that is largely because of two reasons: first, I don't take the time to prepare for the next morning, or second, I don't set out everything in plain sight so that it's easy and natural for me to make coffee. And it got me thinking ... how many other things am I not doing because I either don't prepare for it or because it's not in plain sight and thus easy for me to do?

NHF's praise team spent an intense thirty-six hours at a training retreat on Friday night and Saturday. Non-stop lectures, practicums, Bible studies, prayer time. A meager forty minutes for meals three times on Saturday, one ten-minute break to pee (or not poo, in my case). And the result of our learning, the result of God teaching us new things, was clearly evident -- at least to us and a few other people -- during Sunday's service. The songs were better organized, the transitions were spotless, we had freedom to experiment with dynamics and personality instead of staring at our songsheets wondering what the heck to do next. And most importantly, we were free to have fun, to enjoy the words we were lifting up to God, to take a chill pill about the music and the "performance" aspects so that we could amp up our feelings and our love for the Lord.

So why didn't we think of this before? Why didn't we struggle through such preparation before, so that the end result would be better, more inviting, more meaningful? And so easy? It makes sense that we didn't know the techniques before we learned them; it does not make sense that we were never moved to make ready.

Even the most mundane things in my life ... sometimes I don't make myself a full dinner meal -- starch, meat, vegetable -- even though I'm really craving a hearty dinner, simply because I (a) didn't go grocery shopping to stock up on supplies; (2) didn't set out the meat to defrost in the refrigerator; or (3) didn't get home with enough time and energy to create such a meal. Why? Why is it so difficult to prepare, to make ready, even for the little things that I do as I live my life?

I forget to do laundry, unless I take the laundry basket out of the closet and set it in the hallway right in front of the washing machine. I forget to send out that important letter or that timely bill, unless I seal it right up and lean it against my front door, so that I have to pick it up in order to leave for work in the morning. I don't go to the gym to exercise in the morning unless I go to sleep the night before wearing my workout clothes, and it's just too pathetic to not go work out. I don't take initiative with church activities for which I am responsible unless it's staring me in the face, offering me an easy way to pick up the task and follow through. Heck, I've had photographs sitting in piles for months, waiting for me to clip that Bed, Bath & Beyond coupon that has been sitting on my desk so that I can go there and buy a photo album.

And the stupidest thing really is this: much like making the coffee, the prep work is really easy. I just don't do it. It doesn't occur to me, even type-A me, to do it. But the beginning is half of the ending, it really is ...

***

INTROSPECTION GALORE . . .

There's this game on Yahoo! Games called Alchemy, where you have to arrange different colored and/or shaped icons in a line, either horizontally or vertically, to eliminate the row or column. When all of the rows or columns are eliminated, you move on to the next stage, and each stage introduces new colors and shapes so that the game becomes more random and difficult. When I play Alchemy, I almost always eliminate columns -- I arrange the icons vertically. Once in a while, I'll try to play horizontally, but I get all confused and my brain simply cannot process what is happening on the computer screen. After passing up to five or six vertical screens on the highest level, I can barely get through two horizontal screens. I just can't do it.

I was reminded of this over the weekend, when our praise team was learning how to chart our songsheets so that we can arrange our songs more coherently. I was writing my charts vertically, down the left-hand margin of the songsheet. Our trainer, noticing someone else doing the same thing, instructed that person to write the charts horizontally, so as to leave more room underneath for notes and such. I moved slightly away from the trainer so that he could not see my songsheet, for there was no way on God's green earth that I was going to horizontally chart my sheet; it just wasn't going to happen, I just couldn't do it.

It made me think of all the other ways I take in, process, learn and regurgitate information.

I am not an auditory learner, although I wish I was because it seems so efficient. No, if I'm going to learn something or even appreciate a simple story, it has to be written down, available for me to set my eyes upon. Otherwise, I'll remember it for barely a day. This proves especially difficult at work, where our team tends to talk through issues on our way to resolving them. When Hooch or the Chief talk to me or explain a concept of law to me, I have such a hard time following their speech; sometimes I have to close my eyes or look away into a far corner so that I can zone out and turn their spoken words into pictured words inside my head. Only when their words are "written out " in my brain can I understand what they are saying to me.

I can't write horizontally for very long; I'm a list-maker. When I take notes, I use bullet points or slashes for every little point made; I simply cannot write on and on in one continuous phrase. My notes end up being, on average, about eleven pages longer than everyone else's, simply because I write in list-form, rather than straight-up prose. When I journal, I turn the book on its side so that the spiral ring is at the top. Then I write down one half of the page before moving on to the next half; I just cannot write ALL the way across that long page -- I need to break it up vertically.

I don't communicate very well or clearly in speech. Sure, I can joke around and answer questions and convey concepts accurately enough when totally necessary. But I'm far more comfortable and coherent in writing -- or, in this day and age, email. Writing allows me to choose my words more carefully, to say exactly what I mean and want to say, to view the structure of my thoughts and to ascertain that I'm conveying them accurately, in the order that I want to convey them, with the proper tone and emotion. My spoken words, I can't control -- they're out most of the time before I can catch them and look over them. But my letters or emails, I can always edit, I can always re-read to make sure I'm saying exactly what I mean to say and nothing else. In the same way that I lose focus when I listen, I lose focus when I speak. This could bode very ill for my litigation career, but we'll see what a little more training can do ...

The thing that most fascinates me about myself is not myself; it's the fact that there are people out there who are NOT like me. Those who learn by hearing and get confused by looking at something. Those who can't make lists, but must write everything out lengthwise across that long page of paper. Those who can't write a lick of anything worth reading, but can think on their feet and communicate orally, accurately, coherently, amazingly thoughtfully when they want, how they want. And then there are those who are just a mix of everything. Those who do this one way and that another way. Those who do EVERYTHING and are great at it. It's so interesting how we are made, how our synapses fire off, how our brains light up over here and not over there, how certain different types of people can work together for an incredibly common good, and other different types of people can't even breathe the same air as each other ...