What Berenstain Bears teaches us about time
If bears can't do it all, neither can we
For those unlucky people not raised on Berenstain Bears books, let me describe one that popped in my mind recently: Berenstain Bears and Too Much Pressure.
Sister Bear and Brother Bear and Mama Bear and Papa Bear are just like every other bear family -- until they get hit by the sign-up bug. Brother Bear joins Little league, Sister Bear joins ballet. Then comes riding, art, and Karate. Mama Bear has to use a massive calendar just to keep their schedules straight.
No one sees the problem, except Gran. “Doing is one thing, overdoing is something else again.” she says. At the end of the book, after tears and chaos, each child chooses two activities and the family loses their title as Busiest Family in Bear Country -- but they’re better off for it.
Moral of the story: you can’t do it all.
To me, ‘You can’t do it all’ is a refrain that should be reserved for working mothers. Of course you can’t work full time and cook and clean and do laundry and dote upon your children and make time for yourself. Duh. But childless working professionals in their 20s? Surely we can do it all.
The most potent lessons are the obvious lessons, the lessons you would never refute, but the ones that don’t sink in until all of a sudden they apply to you and you go: Ahh. So it is true what they say. You can’t do it all.
Moving to a new city I had several aims. Find friends. Make this place feel like home. Take advantage of the city. These aims were both practical and immediate -- find friends to ward off loneliness -- but they were also existential and future oriented.
Because having just arrived in D.C., I was already thinking of when I would leave. When I inevitably leave D.C., I don’t want to feel as though I could have done more. I don’t want to think: I should have tried this, gone there, explored this neighborhood, checked off all the museums. I anticipated this regret and tried to preemptively counteract it.
So, I got out there. I tried volunteering and dancing. I go to bookclub, Italian dinner, and a Sunday afternoon language exchange. I mentor a middle schooler.
But I want to take this writing class. I want to learn tennis. I need to make good use of my PTO and take a trip. I ran into a friend from middle school my first week here and I still haven’t reached out. Oh, and I need to make a doctor’s appointment and my bathroom needs a deep clean and I need to open up a bank account, and I’m tired.
Every Thursday The Washington Post publishes a roundup of the best activities to do in the city over the weekend. I look forward to this article each week. I click on half the events, search all the activities. I want to do all the things. It’d be a shame to let a concert or exhibit or street festival pass by unattended.
Our desire to do it all is about a lot of things. An ignorance about our limitations and the finiteness of time and energy. The normal desire for good things and experiences. But at the core it’s about regret. We don’t want to miss out. We don’t want to feel as though we could have done something worth doing. So we try to do it all.
Underlying this regret is fear. We fear not having enough -- or rather, we fear that one day we’ll think we didn’t do enough. This problem of wanting and trying to do it all is also about scarcity. So we try to do it all.
What, then, to do? Before we can prioritize and pick like the Berenstain Bears did, we must remember two things: Enough is a frame of mind and regret is inevitable.
Enough is a frame of mind. When we’re not terrified of regret because we’re intentional about our choices and we live according to our values, we are able to make peace with the choices we do make -- and the inevitable tradeoffs that result.
Regret is inevitable. It’s a natural consequence of living. Of trying and taking risks. Of doing anything. We cannot avoid it. We can learn from it, sure, but we will never eliminate it. Come to terms with this. Come to terms with the fact that at some point you will waste your time, choose the wrong thing, or leave some activity undone. This is frustrating and freeing.
Summer is approaching. Pool days, patio drinks, outdoor concerts, baseball games and barbecues. Infinitive activities. Limited time. What will make the cut?
Not everything -- and that is just fine.
Thank you, as always, for reading. How do you choose to spend your time? What activity have you let go of?