presence
November 1, 2016 § 3 Comments
As the structure of my days has aligned to accommodate work outside our home, I have become differently mindful of messages that shout quietly in the busier minutes of my day; the often serendipitous hints from an expansive universe that when connected by presence speak to purpose.
Personal invitations in unassuming choices that invite greater consciousness in how I invest my time and conquer distractions. Messages of gratitude and joy that reinforce personal values with lessons in wholehearted presence at work and home, offline.
There is so much grace to the tidy time commitment of my work schedule, an unarguable need that allows me to prioritize my days around my mornings; delegating time for necessities, self and others with a hierarchy of responsibility to essentials over emptiness.
The greatest change was an unintentional vacation from social media that underscored on-line distraction cloaked in real-time attentiveness. My new routine left little time for senseless scrolling. The passive voyeurism that kept me entertained by other’s choices was a hamster wheel of reactivity over ingenuity.
Each day begins with family routines and self-care that allow me to indulge in single-minded attentiveness, offline. As we eat breakfast together and walk to the bus stop I am mindful of these ordinary moments with the same appreciation I then exercise and ready myself for work. The uncomplicated demands are a permission slip for an elegance of simplicity.
At work, the hours away from e-mails and texts have established new boundaries around my time, replacing a false urgency with greater peace. Everything can, and does, wait; there is nothing nearly as urgent as I had allowed myself to believe.
Outside of work, errands have become less an excuse to sustain a distracted restlessness and more an efficient accounting of time. I am using my afternoons in rest or purpose that I might structure my evenings for family and weekends for play. Folding clothes and sifting recipes are no less valuable than time given to a new book or old friend.
There is nothing novel in these personal revelations, it is merely a new attentiveness. Others more eloquent than I have written in greater length on the same subject. Neatly itemized suggestions for greater mindfulness offline are ever-present on-line in cleverly articulated Pins.
I won’t pretend a pledge to forgo online indulgences or pass judgment on others who spend their time differently. My mother would say: everything in moderation.
I can speak only for myself, in this season of my life as I sway with and against distraction for balance. As my days have become fuller, I am finding my choices are becoming more intentional and my practices, simpler… online and off-line.
green & gold
September 28, 2015 § 2 Comments
This morning was my daughter’s first morning at the bus stop. We waited together in the early morning quiet, the grass around us still kissed with dew and sticking to our feet.
It is a small change to a still new routine with curious discoveries. The neighbors we have not yet seen as they stirred from their homes and the sounds of the street as it woke to the day’s activity.
We hesitated, uncertain of our placement, as we watched the street for a hint as to the direction the bus might appear. When the yellow arch crested the hill, we delighted in a run to the other side.
Even in the fleeting displacement, our disorientation in an unfamiliar routine, there were smiles enough to chase away the awkwardness of our clumsiness.
This is the beauty in standing still with someone you love; mindfulness allows us to catalogue discoveries we might otherwise deem unexceptional. For a moment, we were adventurers in a work of art; saturated greens and brilliant yellow. Smiles that sounded like bells against the quiet.
A sweet moment on an ordinary day made exceptional, everyday magic.
old habits
January 7, 2013 § Leave a comment
After two weeks of school vacation, days stretched and misshapen from leisurely exploits, today’s morning routine felt snug and foreign. I stumbled through remnants of a schedule marveling at how clumsy and unprepared my efforts felt. The moods of my companions chaffed against my enthusiasm like a cartoon cloud hovering singularly to spite clear skies. Groggy with sleep and movements heavy with resistance the breakfast table was dressed with melancholy. Watching each child slip into their backpacks, I too felt the uncomfortable weight of familiar expectations infringing on last night’s dreams. One foot begrudgingly in front of the other, seeking the footprint of old habits.
busy body
September 14, 2012 § Leave a comment
The past two weeks have felt a little frenzied, my predictable pattern of activities adjusted to accommodate additional commitments. The experience of stepping outside my routine lent me an occasion to reflect on the busyness.
The first adjustment came in the form of a fall fundraising activity for my daughter’s elementary school where I joined Kindergarten classrooms, encouraging pint-sized Picassos to create concrete manifestations of their limitless imaginations. Colorful conversations over crayon sketches were charming compilations of curious questions and unedited statements of self. This happy diversion from my daily tasks shifted the balance of quieter, individual pursuits and I quickly sacrificed morning runs along with errands.
The sound of the school bell seemed to mock me as I then raced to scavenge our kitchen for meals. Having lost the time I often use to gather ingredients for a more spontaneous menu, I found myself planning ahead for family dinner. I was planning my time and moving more productively, but something was missing from the new routine.
I cut short the nagging at my subconscious that I was overlooking an essential piece of my days and pushed forward determinedly. Our long standing quiet school nights were turned upside down by enrolling both children in extracurricular activities. In an effort to create opportunities for individual interests to balance the expectations of academics we allowed each child to select one physical activity and one social activity. We are learning to divide our time between homework, family dinners, play, and practice. This adjustment has underscored my need for patience and the absence of stillness.
As we approached the weekend, we supplemented lazy afternoons for time with friends in an effort to recapture lingering pieces of summer. After a busy week this meant letting go of housekeeping expectations for homemaking efforts, spending more attention on the quality of time shared rather than the appearance of a perfectly maintained house. I relaxed into time with friends aware the work of our home was undone.
Last night I attended a committee meeting for a school-parent topic, finding my way into another new experience. Facing a personal fear of public speaking, I set aside my nerves placing myself in a more vulnerable position in the interest of an honest dialogue with strangers. Where normally I weigh my thoughts in writing, in this new setting I am trusting others to listen while I sound out my uncertainties.
Returning home from the meeting, at the end of these busy weeks, I measured my tired mind, body, and spirit conscious that despite my best intentions to challenge and inspire each of my family to embrace full days I had lost valuable pieces of my routine that lend me resilience and center my actions; simple acts of self-care amid the busyness of the day. I have learned I must create an unbending structure of care allowing therapeutic moments of stillness and meditative movement. Time among friends must be balanced with time alone; pausing to exercise, read, and write are essential to my well-being. In the busyness of these past weeks happy discoveries and an appreciation for change has fostered a greater awareness of self. I needed to make room for new activities to appreciate the absence of activity. I needed to make peace with discomfort to become more comfortable with new endeavors. I need to allow myself moments of happiness on busy days ever mindful of the value of time.
laundry day
August 11, 2012 § Leave a comment
Despite my wish to gather every moment of sunshine for moments of whim and wonder, today is a day for practical activities. The sun teases me from the other side of the glass, but I bury my head a little deeper and move intentionally from corner to corner attempting to create calm from the chaos of dirty linens and cluttered piles of items waiting to be sorted another day, before school begins. Today is Another Day.
My children are sulking as they drift from task to play.
We are all a little out of sorts as we near the end of summer. To cast aside our responsibilities for a dramatic gesture of freedom would reaffirm the end is near. Instead we are denying the unavoidable; our gray moods pushing away the people we will miss the most come the first day back to school. Knowing this I am giving my children room to process their emotions, taking advantage of an indoor day to prepare our home for the routines of Fall and our minds for the unescapable truth that the end is nigh.
Gently, with small familiar tasks, I am reminding my children of the predictable moments, consistency between adventures. Life’s laundry days nestled between vacations.
school daze
August 23, 2011 § Leave a comment
Yesterday morning I walked my daughter hand-in-hand down our tree lined street to the cozy elementary school nestled in our neighborhood to meet her new teacher for the coming school year. It is the first time we have walked to school without her big brother. Mindful of my son’s absence, the sidewalk felt too wide without his company. Memories of years past were ever-present with each new step.
My son is transitioning to Middle School and this milestone has brought both anticipation and anxiety. While he moves towards a new experience his sister is lonely for the shared space of their school days. Mealtimes are peppered with her concerns for his absence, what was theirs has become her own. No longer identifying herself as her big brother’s sister in school, the shade of his company has left her feeling exposed without his shadow. She will do well, the change will soon become familiar. She is adjusting.
Mornings will begin earlier, this is an unavoidable challenge given my son’s difficulty falling asleep at night. Waking early today in preparation for the week ahead, our movements felt forced; my son seemed to sleepwalk, awkwardly stumbling through simple tasks. I immediately longed for familiar mornings of pancakes and play time before school.
One more day. In the morning my son will find his way to the bus stop and join his friends and classmates. No longer will he walk two steps ahead of me with his nose tucked into a book. It is both exciting and terrifying letting go. I smile, breath held, and guide both children toward change.
Tomorrow new routines will create new normals for each of us. Today backpacks and new shoes sit by the door as quietly as our hopes and fears unspoken.
frantically unalarmed
July 15, 2011 § Leave a comment
I woke up yesterday unassisted by the persistent, mechanical nudge of my faithful alarm clock. I had tumbled to bed the evening before, only half conscious having fallen asleep nestled on our couch, the blanket my mother made me keeping out the chill of the air conditioner. I missed a step and my alarm slept unset. It was a rare sleep from which I woke uncertain of the day and obligations. In fact it took me a moment to register I was late. I don’t like the chaotic panic of multitasking morning routines in fast forward so I consciously let go of normal and shifted my focus. This is why I am sharing an otherwise uneventful moment: one small change and my morning unfolded with promise. In slowing down, even with less time for simple routines, I was tuned in to what I was doing rather than going through the motions of the morning. My expectations changed and I was happily surprised. Everything did get done. Everyone was prepared for the day. My morning was alarmingly, pleasantly calm.
my nest
April 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
The kitchen was filled with the smell of banana bread and my countertops were a glorious disaster of baking, painting, and paper mache. Indoor adventures unfolding on a whim and with little regard for order my nest was a mess, but my home felt in order.
My children’s focus wrapped around a project, they unravel their thoughts and I am lost to their company. When they were babies I would marvel at their sleeping form and wait for them to wake, eager for their joyful smiles and wide-eyed wonderment. As they have grown, school day routines have replaced the reasonless rhythm of chance discoveries on impulsive explorations as we move through our mornings in a frantic effort to fall in to order.
Visiting with my children, as they molded creations with paint stained fingers tangled in sticky strips of colorful paper, I wished there were more time to play.
extra time
March 28, 2011 § 1 Comment
I regularly scramble for extra time, reaching deep into the recess of my day for moments to spend; school day routines leaving little time between Good Morning and Good Night for indulgent moments of exploration. This year, when Spring vacation emptied my days of obligations, I made plans to spend my extra time on the little things that I casually set aside for Later and often get shuffled to Never.
We are tumbling into dreams long past bedtime, waking without abrasive alarms, and eating meals unrushed with extra helpings of chatter. Our schedules are empty of Must and sprinkled with Why Not. We are vacationing from Normal and nurturing our spirits with people, places, and things that are too often lost to routines.
Instead of packing our bags for warmer weather, we are loading into our car and navigating our way to familiar favorites. A store filled with miscellaneous nonsense promises hours of backyard adventures courtesy of healthy imaginations. We are building new lands out of Legos and baking banana bread to sustain us on our journeys. We are filling journal pages, marking moments in time with words.
Today, an unexpected invitation gifted my son time with a friend and I discovered stolen moments with my daughter. Normally pulled in two directions, I let my daughter lead me from one moment to the next. We painted pottery and polished her ten tiny pigs purple. Later, when her brother returned home, they swapped stories laced with satisfied smiles, happy for distractions that deviated from the predictable pattern of their days.
I catch myself looking ahead to the rest of our week, eager to explore and happy to hold tightly to our time together.
scribblechic 