I remember being told, at least once in the distant past, that more than half of life was about maintenance.   At the time, I thought that was the craziest thing I'd ever heard, but I'm beginning to think (as I approach 50) that this might be true after all.

Even if we don't count our sleeping time as maintenance, we'd have to count eating, bathing, grooming, shopping, cleaning, filing, errands, administrivia and the like as maintenance.  Oh, and making the bed, and feeding the dog.  Watering plants (if you have them; I don't because they always die and then I feel guilty, so I only have cut flowers which are inevitably going to end up dead, so I don't have to take any responsibility for it).

What about in relationships?  Are the messages communicated simply for co-ordination maintenance? Or is the good-bye hug, the occasional chat, the dinner out maintenance, too? Where is that line between sustaining and nurturing something alive and maintaining it?

I suppose we could argue that we maintain a car or a front lawn (for example), but sustain working relationships and nurture those we love.  Perhaps that's an easy distinction that would work almost all the time.  But even then, there are blurry lines.  Do we maintain, or sustain a garden?  Or do they maintain and sustain us?  Are most maintenance, sustenance and nurturance reciprocal? Or just the exceptional ones?

And then there's how we decide what (or who) we will maintain, sustain or nurture.  I wonder how conscious we are of the commitments of time and energy we make when we buy a thing, welcome a person into our lives, or fall in love.   If we were more conscious of it, we might make different decisions.  But would they be better decisions?

Mostly, when I ponder maintenance, sustenance and nurturance, I'm struck by competing desires: the desire to have a simple, serene, intentional life where all my commitments are choices I've made, consistent with what I value, and the desire to live spontaneously, with a great deal of stimulation, randomness, and synchronicity.   In the latter case, one is more responsive to life; less directive.  In the former, one is making decisions, planning, plotting a course, even knowing that the detour may be more interesting.

Order and freedom; plans and spontaneity; simplicity and complexity; respite and engagement.  Whenever I face those choices, I end up refusing to choose.  I want it all, although I don't want (or need) it right now.  I want three from column A and three from column B.  I want to explore and discover, and I want to maintain, sustain and nurture what I already value.  And until I see with greater clarity the superiority of one option over the others, I'll persist in my ambiguity.  And I'll glory in the nurturing, maintaining and sustaining that others do that so enhance my life experience. Thanks to you all. 

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