Inner peace

Some days I feel so lost.

A few weeks ago, the thought of “sweetly doing nothing” was foreign, unknown and very unpracticed for me, and it was enticing. I was open to this crazy idea and willing to give it a go. The thought of having so much time on my hands, that I could read, work out, nap in the afternoon, gaze out at the ocean, ponder life, spend time figuring out what the hell I want to be when I grew up was so delicious, so inviting, so exotic.

Well, let’s fast forward a few weeks to the present.  I’ve had a lot of time to practice this concept and honestly right now, I’d like to kick it in the ass and get myself a to-do list as long as my arm and wrack up a bunch of busy.   Right now, I miss my scheduled life, where every day was full of accomplishments, things to do, people to see, places to go.

Inside voice as I’m writing this … realizing that many of those accomplishments were not ones that I would have chosen, but had been chosen for me or I just took them on. Remembering that often the things that I would have liked to accomplish, I felt that I couldn’t because I had no time.  Well isn’t that a kicker-realization…. didn’t see that one coming.

I suppose now my choice and my opportunity is to create my own list of to-do’s.  To focus on the things that I want to accomplish, the things that matter to me, are important to me and my wee traveling family.  That torrent that was brewing and has been brewing in my brain and my body for days and days has just taken a massive shift and turn.  That turmoil (hence the name under the picture – inner peace mother-f**ckers) was something that I felt wasn’t possible for me – I was too busy fighting what I had become masterful at – the busy-ness, the texts, emails, phone calls, always somebody wanting something.

Truthfully, there’s a part of me that is afraid to be still. I am afraid to be quiet, afraid to listen to my inner thoughts, my intuition, my heart, what my soul may have to say if only I were still enough to hear. When I try to be still, when I think to myself, “I can do this!” – those smack talking gremlins crank out their very best work – and stories that start developing about myself and those around me are pretty messed up, and it’s pretty hard to admit to myself, let along the blog-o-sphere.

Well, what the f**ck do I do now?

A few things come to mind:

An incredible friend sent this to me just yesterday. She’s a wise woman, and I needed the reminder that I am human and so is my son and so is my husband.  And, I think I started unpacking and getting comfy in my land of turmoil and pissed-off-ness.  I’m packed up and ready to leave that sh*t behind.

Another thought is that while I expected to be further along in this journey of slowing down, we are only eight weeks into this adventure.  It took me 40+ years to learn to be a super-busy-woman, and it’s going to take a hell of a lot longer than eight weeks and a bit of kicking the tires to figure this out.

Admitting to myself that there are a few things that I could have been doing over the last few weeks, that I conveniently haven’t.  In my mind, I’ve created (yet another) story that it’s too hard, or I just really don’t know, and I don’t know how to figure it out.  The reality is that I could be doing a bit of work in this department every day and that I have an incredible network around me that would be ready, willing and more than able to help.   So, kick the story to the curb, pick one thing to start on and if and when I get stuck, call on my peeps to help.  What a novel idea!

I am a bit surprised at where this post has taken me. I envisioned something completely different.  It had a powerhouse of torment behind it and like the waves crashing below on the beach below me – I felt like it was going to get more fierce.  I didn’t expect this insight to come while I was writing and I’ll need a bit of time to percolate (good thing I happen to have some…).

From my heart to yours, thanks for listening.

Ila xoxo

 

 

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