I like to get up early so that I can have time to be still, quiet, contemplative, and yes, so that I can make my lists!
I am a chronic list maker.
I admit to actually doing something “NOT” on my list and then going to my list to add it just so that I can cross it off.
There is some feeling of accomplishment and some sense of peace that comes over me when I go down my list and see all the things that I have done that day.
Here is the rub: lately I am also noticing the feeling of tightness and the sense of dis-ease that comes over me when I go down my list and see all the things that did not get done that day.
This has become a theme recently – the “not” getting done and the stress that I notice in my body.
With the computer age sitting heavy upon us, there is so much more to do. We have access to so many people or maybe better put, they have access to us.
I can’t keep up with everyone. I can’t read everyone’s blogs or Facebook posts or even respond to everyone’s emails or messages.
Well, I could but then I would not really be in my life – I would just be talking and writing about my life – and that is not living my life.
This is a problem that I am sure many of us are feeling and facing. What do you do?
I sure could use some help with this one.
Please share your wisdom as it helps all of us.
I always say to my students, ” make sure to ask your questions because if one of you is wondering, guaranteed others are as well.”
For me, I know it is a choice. I must choose me. This is the most difficult thing for me. I am a caregiver. I am a lover. I am a healer.
To care for myself. To love myself. To heal myself. This requires that I make space and time for the things that will keep me healthy and well on all levels.
I do different things on different days. Today, I am turning off the computer, reading a poem (this one from my brother, Gregory’s new book), and meditating for the next 20 minutes.
See you on the other side.
A snippet from the poem, Oneness
This morning I was a light socket again
Yesterday I was the clock on the wall
and the ticking of the time
Tomorrow who knows what I may become,
maybe a night bird
or a blade of grass