Aware of the problem, I sought to learn. I learned enough to think the right way (on certain issues), buy the right books (but not necessarily read them), not flaunt my privilege (or so I thought). But have I allowed the injustice to change me? Have I changed how I spend my time, where I spend my money, who I listen to, what I think about? Concerned with doing the wrong thing, I do nothing. Comfortable in my white privilege, I drop the cause when it becomes inconvenient. I stopped working to change the one person I can change: me.
Category Archives: Personal Development
And now a break
Monday holiday tomorrow, Sunday stretches out, relaxed. Nowhere to go, nowhere to be. All I have to do is be. Be myself. Be present. Be grateful. Be here.
Unrushed
Another Saturday, a 3-day weekend, time to be. The urge rises up to remind myself time is scarce, to question what I've done so far today. I take a deep breath, let the wave pass over me, then go about my task. Unrushed.
Making time for what’s important
It's a practice— learning to say yes to myself, saying yes to the activities that fill me up and bring me joy. Choosing myself might mean stealing away, disappointing someone, or missing 24-hr only stories on Instagram. When following others, I risk feeling fomo if I miss a day. But how many days have I missed myself?
Return to the (yoga) mat
The desire to practice yoga is returning to me. I think it's a sign I'm settling in to this pace of life. I'm not so frantic, that the only form of meditation— or exercise—I can contemplate is a brisk walk. I miss it, the deep breathing, the stillness, the focus. I miss feeling strong and lean, a feeling that only comes from asking more from my muscles, and experiencing a few moments of mental and physical struggle. Part of me felt weak, not keeping yoga in my my Covid routine. The other part of me knew I should listen to my body, even if that meant getting softer, feeing less cool, being buffeted by the waves a bit more. But now the desire is gently knocking at my door, and I feel ready to invite it in, with joyful arms. I'm rolling (back) out the welcome mat to my yoga practice.
Promises to myself
What if self-discipline was reframed... as self-trust? What if self-condemnation... had no place? I trust myself when I do what I said I would do. (Even if it disappoints others). What promises am I making to myself?
Sabbath, take 2
This Saturday I didn't put off the house chores to Sunday. I spent the morning writing and reading, while drinking ginger peach green tea. I made a delicious salad for lunch, using up food from the week. I emptied the entire fridge and cleaned it, prompted by a sticky soy sauce spill. I listened to podcasts and talked to a friend. I tried not to stress out about the hours ticking by. I cleaned and vacuumed. I opened the windows and ate an orange while sitting on the front step. I noticed the Japanese maple in the front yard, its feathery crimson leaves recently returned. I tried not to rush.
Trying out a sabbath
Over the years, I’ve felt the pull to try to practice a weekly sabbath, a day of rest. Sabbath is supposed to be a day where we cease our work and productivity and just be.
It’s always been a challenge.
In Christianity, Sunday is the assumed day for this. But going to church is not all that restful. And the beginning of the work week looms large on Sundays, bringing low-level anxiety and the pressure to prepare.
Saturday is typically my day to do things around the house. But this morning, after starting the day slowly—sleeping in and making brunch—and perhaps inspired by the overcast weather and rain, I had the thought, “What if I left the chores for tomorrow? And let today be work free?”
I felt the tiredness from the week, and I felt a deep desire to rest. So I made the call.
I spent the day writing, reading, taking a nap, taking a walk, reading some more and making dinner. I took a long shower, washed my hair and shaved my legs. I stayed off social media (barely).
I still found myself looking at the clock, feeling a pang as the hours went by, knowing I didn’t have much to “show” for the time. But I tried to go with the experiment.
Tomorrow will be part 2. Will I feel refreshed enough to get things done, and still feel ready, going into the week?
Time will tell.
20 minutes +
Even when I'm in great running shape, the first 20 minutes of a run are tough. I've learned that these first 20 minutes are the warm-up, when my legs don't want to cooperate, my mind is going a million miles per hour, and I'm not exactly sure why I decided this was a good idea. But despite all of that angst, once I hit 21 minutes (give or take, I don't wear a watch these days), I feel better. My body finds its rhythm. And I start to enjoy myself. Today I realized that walking is the same way— I need time to get in the flow, let my mind settle, and resign myself to the fact that I am taking this time to walk. This is especially true on my post-workday Covid-19 walk. I barely remember the beginning half of the walk. But I savor the second half. That's when I remind myself to take deep breaths, to give myself grace, and to make something healthy to eat when I get home, even if it's the last thing I want to do. The second half is when I remember things aren't that bad, the trees and flowers are really beautiful, and it feels good to move my body. After 20 minutes is when the good stuff comes.
Healing
On Monday, when I weeded dandelions, I put too much pressure on the side of my right index finger and the skin broke. I felt the pain, but I thought--I'll be fine. I wasn't ready to stop yet. So I kept going. And now it's Saturday, and the cut on my finger is still not fully healed. In fact it probably has a while to go. It's amazing that my body heals itself. Miraculous. But it's easy to take this healing for granted-- to assume that it's worth the cost to press on, to not let up the pressure, to not stop, and instead to let my body bear the consequences. It's hard to stop. But healing takes time, too.