It’s so easy to spot in others – those that constantly complain about everything – but, do we catch it in ourselves?
These days I admit to feeling overwhelmed. Everywhere I look there are things to pack, and dust balls waiting to be scooped up. I lie awake thinking about it, instead of getting much needed rest.
So, I’m adopting a new mantra. Each time I fall into a mindset of lack, I’m consciously telling myself: There is time enough for everything. I’m getting it done.
It’s all about focus.
Does life ever turn out the way we expected? I doubt it. A smooth ride would only serve to make us dull and unsympathetic beings.
I didn’t know that I had the ability to crawl out of darkness until I did. When illness knocked me off my feet, I had the reassurance of knowing I’d defeated worse.
The future is unknown, and I trust that I am equipped to handle whatever comes my way.
Boxes are filling up around us. We’re making a dent in our to-do lists. Doubt seeps in. Are we doing the right thing?
Then I remember all the reasons behind making this choice and affirm:
We are dismantling one life to build another, purposeful existence.
Growing up, I thrived on being the responsible one. Need something done, someone to bail you out, an issue to be confronted – I was your girl. Until I wasn’t anymore. One day something snapped in me and that house of cards came tumbling down.
Sometimes it’s hard to see the ugly truth and yet, seeing with clarity is the only thing that helps us break the destructive cycles.
You are not responsible for everything. Be accountable. Strive to be self-aware. Know that there is so much more at work than you could ever carry on your own, so don’t even try.
Note to self.
Petulance is actually the word that comes to mind at the moment. I feel as if my inner child, not getting what she wants fast enough, is throwing a temper tantrum.
I just need to convince her to give the grass time to grow.
Thanks Richard Adams.
I think we are all feeling the need for a new dawn.
Back to back showings and an Open House Saturday, and I’m falling into the perfectionism trap.
Then I found this note I’d written to my younger self:
Discard the concept of perfection:
choose to embrace vulnerability
and imperfection as fertile ground.
Taking comfort in my own words.
“When you sit in silence long enough, you learn that silence has a motion. It glides like water. Its colour is silver. And silence has a sound you hear only after hours of wading inside it. The sound is soft, like flute notes rising up, like the words of glass speaking. Then there comes a point when you must shatter the blindness of its words the blindness of its light.”
Growing up fifth of six kids, I learned that life was chaos and noise. It was where I thrived. Always shared a room, and later, an apartment, and marriage, and my own children, and when finally silence found me, it was shattering. It took a long while for me to appreciate the gift in silence, and like anything in life, I had to learn not to rest there too long.
Balance and moderation. That’s what I seek.
But, oh, I do love silence.
