One person, who has a Taskmaster sitting on their shoulders, stopped making lists and enjoys the freedom that has ensued.
One person keeps her list in a journal, crosses out items that have been done, but continues to have a record of all that she has accomplished, or not. Those that are 'or not' on the list give her something to dream or plan about for the future.
One person, in her twenties, made a list of all that she wanted to do in her life, tucked away the list, found it in her 60s, and realized that most of what she listed she had achieved.
One of my aunts kept a daily record of the weather, which showed many, many years worth of living on a secluded farm in Minnesota.
Another friend started her day with a list of calls she needed to make. She was a networker and loved by those she contacted frequently.
One person makes a list that includes items she needs to do, but also rewrites past entries to make her realize how much she has done.
My sister laughs at the number of lists I make, which can be found all over our house. They bring order to my life (I have a list on the door leading to the garage of all of our daily, weekly, monthly, yearly chores). They spark my imagination: I have a list of unusual names that I've gathered, which includes Twyla Tharp and my mother's dad, Elzeor Jean Bellefeuille de poire (shortened to Belfi when his ancestors moved to Canada from France). I've even made a book of lists. Here is the Table of Contents (another list, of course!)
The book includes the lists for the preparations for a New Year's Eve party:
and a list of random things about me:
I like what Steve Maraboli said about lists:
“Rename your “To-Do” list to your “Opportunities” list. Each day is a treasure chest
filled with limitless opportunities; take joy in checking many off your list.”
I hope this Inktober has been a fruitful way for you to make a daily practice of what you decided to do!