Maybe I Should . . . . a collective list

With Big Thanks to Marilyn Arsem, who provided this phrase as a “spark”


Maybe I should lighten up; take myself less seriously, and also more seriously; sing, with no shame; learn how to bake; sit quietly, longer, first thing every day. Maybe I should read all the books I haven’t gotten to yet before I buy anything new; wear less black; have kinder thoughts about the people I do not think kindly of; fill a new blank notebook with drawings; plan a little vacation. Maybe I should say yes more often; say no more often; have my hearing checked; organize my junk drawer(s); vacuum the rug; live more in the present and less in the future; think big; embrace my contradictions

Maybe I should stop binge watching TV and curl up in bed with a new book. Maybe I should drastically cut down my sugar intake to lead to a healthier body; maybe I should not have been such a pain in the ass as a little kid in Flushing, Queens. Maybe I should become a vegetarian; stop answering 90% of the e-mails I receive; stop answering the telephone since it is hardly ever a real call from a real person who wants to talk to me; stop apologizing for taking afternoon naps.

Maybe I should go for one week without wearing any purple, including purple earrings. Maybe I should be more patient; not expect other people to share my enthusiasms; focus on one thing at a time; not feel guilty about anything; weed my sock drawer; eat a piece of fruit every day. Maybe I should express anger, disappointment, sorrow, fear — instead of pretending not to feel any of those things. Maybe I should stop talking to myself out loud; learn how to drive; sharpen all the knives in the kitchen

Maybe I should get one of those tile things that helps you find your phone when you lose it; believe what I feel more than what I see; be more willing to take risks and be fine no matter the results; stop listening to the news, stop questioning people’s sanity, stop waiting for a change I cannot effect. Maybe I should be satisfied with how I effect the world, not worrying so much about railing at the masses. Maybe I should get a little robot to keep track of my phone, my keys, my sneakers, my purse — just maybe

Maybe I should resume getting up at 4:30 a.m.; just drop everything; leave; stay. Maybe I should leave myself alone. Maybe I should leave teaching; hug my students; accept this ritual I do; not give up sugar; just let love not be a verb but a gracious noun with no edges. Maybe I should not doubt my efficacy; not feel the need to explain myself. Maybe I should just wake up as myself every day

Maybe I should forget about deadlines; be easier on myself; retire sooner; get rid of most of my books; hire someone to clean the entire house; start taking walks again. Maybe I should stop being so productive; listen more; plan a dinner party; run down the trail; walk backwards uphill; revel in snow, rain, clouds; start knitting again

Maybe I should love my older sister better and love my younger sister less; call my mother; become an activist; try again to play guitar; stop thinking about work when I am not at work. Maybe I should try walking a little farther today despite the pain; clean everything; declutter; get a dog. Maybe I should be braver, take a chance, fail, succeed

Maybe I should bake a cake today; drink less coffee and more tea; plan a trip; take up a different hobby each year; go to the movies more often; drink more champagne. Maybe I should stop remembering darker episodes of the past; read philosophy instead of poetry (but maybe not); experiment more with different intensities of chocolate; plant exotic vegetables this summer. Maybe I should plan my costume for Halloween right now

Maybe I should take a moment; breathe; cut myself some slack; speak up; stop overthinking. Maybe I should live in the moment; stop romanticizing memories; try again; stop asking for permission; stop pretending. Maybe I should listen; take ownership; go climbing; stop giving up my power; remember the good things. Maybe I should just get the tattoos.

Maybe I should stay quiet; help more; say that I care; grow up; start all over; grow more flowers. Maybe I should dare more; be less honest; cry; fly away; go with the flow; live more freely; stop listening to others. Maybe I should be fierce; be gentle; buy a dictionary; remember to water my one plant; take myself out for dinner and order anything/everything I desire

Maybe I should stop worrying about what I should do; forgive my sister; move to California; compost; move to New Orleans; learn how to play bridge; never cut my hair again. Maybe I should move to Mexico; say yes to the dress; pick up my camera again; go on a silent retreat; laugh more often. Maybe I should get my charts read at this point in my life; get in the car and keep driving; have people over for dinner more often; go to a sunny beach for a week or a decade; say “I love you” more often

Maybe I should quit my temporary job as a dishwasher; look harder for the croci coming up now since spring bulbs blooming fight depression; contact Ben and see if he wants me to drive tractor this spring; walk on a hiking trail I’ve never known before.

Maybe I should learn Spanish; work on weekends to catch up with everyone else; get comfortable with downhill skiing; get an air filter for my room, change the pillow, ditch the down comforter; sleep more. Maybe I should spend more time cleaning the house; read less news, more literature; volunteer on a campaign, make phone calls, give more money. Maybe I should replace all the plastic with glass — really, all of it.

Maybe I should stir the roux; soak the beans; get on down; punch the clock; give ‘em a break. Maybe I should choose a hobby and become devoted to it, whatever it is; keep fresh flowers in a vase on my desk; only write with purple ink; dust my collection of empty boxes; pat myself on the back more often (literally)

Maybe I should always put my wallet in the same place so I don’t end up leaving home without it; think twice before I speak; climb more flights of stairs; get another cat; knit a sweater or two in a lighter fiber; go through all the books that are piled up by the bed and see if I will ever read some of them. Maybe I should donate the books I won’t read to the library book sale

Maybe I should get a new pen that doesn’t smudge; make decisions about all the choices I’m stumbling over; plant my tomato seeds soon; take up sewing again; drag out the electronic keyboard and try to learn to play; never ever eat another jelly bean

Maybe I should move to India; go to the headstand clinic at Circus Culture; feed my cat canned food instead of dry; wash the salt off my shoes; wash the salt off my car (or maybe I should wait and do that in a few weeks). Maybe I should be less vulnerable at work and more vulnerable at home. Maybe I should have slept more last night; have packed a lunch; have chosen a different book to read today. Maybe I should do my taxes this weekend. Maybe I should have done my taxes last weekend

Maybe I should run away and start a new life; speak French; dye my hair pink. Maybe I should write down all the forbidden thoughts and pin them to my wall so they at least have a place to live; bring home every stray dog I see; make a winter bug, mouse, and squirrel sanctuary and anyone who shows up is welcome, as long as they know they have to leave when spring arrives. Maybe I should go out the front door, leaving it ajar, while I walk until I don’t want to walk anymore — maybe I will make it to an ocean

Maybe I should wash the dishes; walk all day in the woods; visit my old friends in Colorado; replace the light bulbs; finish the paper I started writing 21 years ago; plant an oak between the hickories. Maybe I should trust my intuition; shut off the computer every day at 4 p.m., refrain from gossiping; be more forgiving; write down my dreams; focus on one thing at a time. 

Maybe I should start thinking of aches and pains as friendly reminders; travel more lightly; drink one less glass of wine, occasionally; take up painting; thank my lucky stars

Maybe I should try braiding my thin white hair into tiny little strands all over my head; see if I can locate that old friend I owe a big apology to; try to become a contestant on Jeopardy and hope the categories that day make actual sense to me; make big money by selling my junk on E-bay. Maybe I should sit down at the keyboard and work on a piece by J. S. Bach instead of just thinking about the joy that would bring me; work daily on developing my lip so I can have the chops to play the highest notes on my euphonium. Maybe I should look through my closet and pull out all the shirts and coats and jackets I have not worn for many years and take them to the Thrifty Shopper; take a load of books to the Friends of the Library even though I haven’t gotten around to reading them yet. Maybe I should learn the difference between significant family history and sentimental accumulation

Maybe I should move away to some remote place where the trees stand majestically tall and the sun is forever setting and I can be quiet — no words — no voice — just listening for all those who have suffered and want to tell and retell their stories. Maybe I should count backwards each time I have a birthday, and I will get younger and younger, not because I regret aging, but because I want to play with my child self again. Maybe I should go back into the dream I had last night and try to find my mother; she sounded sad, wanted me to come and be with her, but her voice trailed off into silence before she could tell me where she was

Maybe I should see everyone as Divine Mother, in need; choose with care, then abandon; give back a few of the million-minutes-wasted; see the lesson in each hour of my day. Maybe I should loosen the weight of the world from my shoulders; allow others to be who they are; break down and cry; stop trying a little harder; move in rhythm with the tune my heart is humming; say a little prayer for the ones I hate. Maybe I should rejoice and celebrate; give more than five hugs a day, everyday; mentor, with no malice or forethought; express, in response to inspiration. Maybe I should be very quick to love

Maybe I should get a new life; learn to make furniture; have a real garden again; move to another country; cut my hair. Maybe I should cook something new at least once a week, maybe twice; do something pleasurable at least once a day; take a class and really learn Chinese; give away everything that I have accumulated; move to a new house; get another cat; change my name

Maybe I should plan a surprise getaway for our family for this weekend, just the three of us. Maybe I should pull up Google Maps and randomly pick a location and that is where we will go, whether it turns out to be Budapest, Idaho, or even Owego. Maybe I should pretend I’m a ghost while walking down the street and if someone smiles at me I will put on a concerned face, lean toward them, and whisper “you can see me?” Maybe I should tell my friend Peaches that her earrings remind me of sparkly little peacocks and that I appreciate their twinkle

Maybe I should take a train across America by myself; learn to ice skate; organize a high school reunion; learn German and go to Germany. Maybe I should go into a trance and visit with my mother — I miss her. Maybe I should throw away (recycle) everything in the basement instead of sorting through it all; watch every movie at Regal Cinema this weekend; buy a new wardrobe (but first buy a lottery ticket); play more dance music while I cook. Maybe I should buy a whole new set of Smart Wool socks to replace all of mine which seem to have worn out at once; rent an apartment in Manhattan and get over being scared of large city living; get a reading list of fabulous books from four different people

Maybe I should be quiet sometimes; celebrate every minute when there is nothing hurting in me; call my parents more often; look for a book whose cover I don’t like and read it. Maybe I should try to find all my pair-less socks and make puppets out of them for the children to play with; stop obsessing about using my time well; redefine success in my head; stop telling my kids “I’ll be right there, hold on.” Maybe I should collect more seed pods of trees since I find them so enchanting. Maybe I should decide to grow in new directions, towards ideas or the shimmering light on the surface of the open sea

Maybe I should put together an art installation; make everything I do an artistic endeavor; sing from the rooftops; live big and full for as long as I can; keep painting my fingernails blue; keep the excitement going despite everything. Maybe I should calm myself down; not be so grandiose; take things a bit slower

Maybe I should use perfume again; let my hair grow long again; do all the mending that has piled up for two years; start using a fountain pen again, with some outlandish color of ink; try planting more tulip and daffodil bulbs. Maybe I should get serious about organizing my photos; learn how to live in a smaller space; face the fact that I don't really need all the clothes that hang in my closet; finally get around to finishing that quilt I started in 1980; set up that small portable greenhouse on my back porch so I can grow basil year-round; find a way to enjoy the grayness of an Ithaca winter. Maybe I should express gratitude every day; try watercolor painting again; give away even more books; send more snail mail and fewer emails; try to keep a diary for the last 20 years of my life; give up on my plan to read War and Peace and settle for having read Anna Karenina

Maybe I should take a more vocal stand for the rights of others; apologize more often; apologize less. Maybe I should dye my hair pink or purple or blue; pull out that old ukulele and re-learn those lost chords; polish my tap shoes; sing at the top of my lungs outside of the shower. Maybe I should hold the hand of my sweetheart more frequently; remember to breathe deeply several times a day; stop wearing shoes and let my toes breathe, too. Maybe I should simply toss out those four boxes of papers labeled "to file.” Maybe I should or maybe I shouldn’t


Contributors:

Aino Waller
Chris McNamara
Happy Snyder
James Spitznagel
Jayne Demakos
Jennifer Marshall
Jennifer VanAlstine
Jim Mazza
Laura Joy
Marian Rogers
Marilyn Arsem
Marty Blue Waters
Mary Louise Church
MJ Richmond
Molly Buck
Nancy Osborn
Patti Witten
Peaches Gillette
Reba Dolch
Rob Sullivan
Saskya van Nouhuys
Sheila Dean
Stacey Murphy
Sue Norvell
Susan Currie
Tahera-Rafia Kassam
Tina Wright
Yasmin Kassam
Yvette Rubio
Yvonne Fisher
Zee Zahava