My former running partner had a wife who would compile a “Honey Do” list for him. I had never heard this term before and it struck me as odd. Why would anyone make a list of things to do for someone else (unless of course it was a teenager)?
On a Wednesday run, I’d ask him, “Wanna climb on Saturday?” Quite often, he’d respond, “No, can’t. Have a ‘Honey Do’ list.” 
This annoyed me. Who says shit like that? Especially when climbing’s at stake? It seemed parental, pejorative, punitive and perverse not to mention degrading and belittling. (I’m trying hard not to sugar coat my feelings here.)
Years later, I realized that I say shit like that. To myself.
I am one of the world’s biggest list makers. There’s the ‘to do’ list, the goal list, the bucket list, the grocery list, the house repair list, the gear list, the packing list, the travel list, the fitness list, the case load list, the project list and the photo list. Sometimes I make master lists so that I can properly order and track my lists. 
I usually make my lists for the week ahead on Sundays. And I usually make my list for the following day the night before.
One of my favorite things to do is to make lists and write things on them that I have already done just so I can check those things off right away. How whacked is that?
My days are organized around my lists. And I live from list to list.
When I get to the end of the day and have checked off most of the things, I judge the day to be a success. When I haven’t gotten to my list – especially the most important parts – I judge that I have failed.
Now lists are important. They help to organize and prioritize and remind. I’m pretty efficient in the way I work. And I accomplish a lot in a day. Mainly because I have great lists.
But they’re hardly the measure of existential worth. Or a life well lived.
I realize that one of the gifts I give to myself when I journey into the mountains is a pass, a furlough; a temporary reprieve from list making. And list execution.
The goals while climbing are pretty straightforward: stay safe, stay warm, stay fed, stay hydrated.
And of course walk, think, play, and rejoice in the grandeur of the mountains.
And then sleep.
Day after day.
When I’m in the mountains, I make a commitment to myself to become less rigid in my list making when I return to daily life. But before long, my life tumbles and cascades again from list to list. And I long for a return to the freedom of the mountains.
Perhaps it would be best to get rid of goals and lists altogether.
Leo Babauta advocates this. Babauta is the author of the wonderful contemporary Zen book entitled The Power of Less. In his thoughtful and highly popular blog, he argues that our system for goal achievement is a set up for failure; that having goals fosters rigidity and stifles creativity. Better, says Baubauta, to wake up each day and follow your passions. Goallessly.
There is precedent for this. At the heart of all Buddhist teaching is this: Nothing to be, nothing to do, nothing to have.
Lao Tzu said, “A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.”
Emerson wrote, “With the past, I have nothing to do; nor with the future. I live now.”
No more lists. Just (passionate) goalless wandering.
But this too seems a recipe for failure. Aimlessness won’t get us far.
Perhaps, as in most things Buddhist (indeed as in most things), there is a “middle way.”
The “goal,” it seems, is to live “deliberately.” As Thoreau says, “To live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.”
Lists help get us places. Lists help focus us and make us more deliberate. They provide a springboard for new directions.
But it is in this place now that life unfolds. List or not.
At the end of the list, I do not want to discover that I have not lived.
I need to learn to be more forgiving with myself about the list. To soak in what is. And live listlessly more often.
At the top of my list today was to finish this week’s blog. So that’s it for now.
Great blog! The lists will come in more handy as you age. As you suggest- it’s a careful balance:-)