My life has been teaching me some intense lessons this month. As usual, one of my best teachers is my daughter. What she taught me this month is that just because I have an idea about timing doesn’t mean that it’s true.
For example! Just because I have a lot that I want to get done in a month, and I’m sort of expecting that my home and family life will coast on its own momentum for just a couple of weeks while I throw myself into these amazing projects…are you laughing really hard yet?
My darling girl’s chosen teaching methods were: being whiny and needy, getting sick, crying when I wish she would play on her own, and throwing some tremendous tantrums. Oy! I didn’t like it. Not one little bit. But I did finally get it. I accepted that she needed me to slow down. I realized that she needed me to get back into my body instead of zipping along fueled entirely by inspiration and manic brain fumes. I saw that she needed the quiet routines of our home life– and I needed them too.
Then, because my sundae needed a cherry, I had a session with my technology coach. We were planning to talk about exciting and thrilling things like podcasting and video and all kinds of media treats. Oh, the visions that danced in my head! Sweeter than sugarplums!
Only– my hard drive was full. And my software kept crashing because I wasn’t updating it properly. Oh, and I didn’t have a reliable system for backing up my data, and my files were a mess, and… Oy! I didn’t like it. Not one little bit. Cleaning up all those messes was not how I wanted to spend my time. I wanted to skip all that and jump straight to the part where my dreams turn into celestial spirals of audio and video.
And there I was, standing in my clients’ shoes again. I know exactly how they feel. They come to me ready to do The Big Thing. They’re eager to make the scary leap and watch it All Happen. They want me to help them be brave, think outside the box, and go renegade. And I am all about the big thing happening. I LOVE working with them on their wildest ideas. And the first step is almost always to clean up their messes and lay down new, more nurturing routines and practices.
This just doesn’t sound as fun. I signed up for leaping, dammit! Leaping!
Especially us dreamers; we really hate this part. When the beautiful new home needs to be picked up every single day. When the sweet little baby produces endless piles of laundry. When the sparkly new business plan requires spreadsheets. When the manuscript needs a total rewrite. When our mental narrative, our ‘story,’ begs for an overhaul. Ugh. Where’s the champagne and the fireworks?
But I have come to believe that it’s worth it. It feels so amazing to shine a light on the dark tangled parts of our lives– our money fears, our backed-up correspondence, our crazy packed schedules or the boxes of old mildewed books. We feel so solid when we set down routines that nurture us and keep us steady. For me, it was a fabulous investment to consult with a tech expert and spend some hours cleaning up the hash I’d made of my technology. Now my data gets backed up without me even having to think about it, my files are in order, I have space on my hard drive to do those dreamy projects I want to do, and– to top it all off– I finally learned to synch my iPhone! (I even have music on it. Seriously. It’s true, I am obviously a technological savant.)
So here I am, settling into this physical coil again much like I’m settling into December. I’m tying up loose ends. I’m laying the groundwork for next year. I’m getting ready for the holidays now so that I can enjoy them when they come. I keep having to remember to breathe, because there are so many thrilling things zipping around my mind that I can lose track of what I’m doing. Sometimes I chafe at the daily rituals of motherhood– endless meals, the all-sacred storytime, and the slippery slope of bathtime. I get bored with the business routines, too– filing boring things and putting boring things away in boring cupboards. I much prefer the all-nighter fueled by caffeine and adrenaline, or the last-minute frenetic rush of an impossible deadline. I like the mad dress-up spree where every single item of clothing I own is strewn across the apartment. much better than putting it all away again. I would rather make vision boards than spreadsheets any day of the week.
But here’s the thing. I have some serious shit to do. I think I’m here to do certain things in the world, and I think they’re important. And in order to do them justice, I have to connect my airiest dreams with the physical realities of running a business and having a child and being in this body that just doesn’t do well at warp speed.
So I’m learning to walk slower. And all this ritual, the cleaning and sorting and bathing and filing and making food and cleaning it up again, it keeps me grounded. It helps me remember to put my feet onto the earth and look up at the moon and listen intently when I am treated to long sagas about acorns. This physical life is like doing the snail dance, and it’s maddeningly slow, and it’s also exactly what I need to keep me connected to my intuition, my truth, and my knowing.
Because those deep forms of wisdom always speak to me through my body. And oddly enough, their teaching methods are a lot like my daughter’s– when I ignore the nudges, the quiet whispers, and the little flutters, then they escalate into aches and pains, depressions, and mighty skin tantrums.
So sit with me here. Wiggle in until you feel the weight of your body connecting with what’s holding it up. Not much happens. Maybe we’ll fold some laundry. We’ll do a little sweeping. We’ll breathe in and out. It’s excruciating. But if you tip your head back, you’ll see the stars.
For example! Just because I have a lot that I want to get done in a month, and I’m sort of expecting that my home and family life will coast on its own momentum for just a couple of weeks while I throw myself into these amazing projects…are you laughing really hard yet?
My darling girl’s chosen teaching methods were: being whiny and needy, getting sick, crying when I wish she would play on her own, and throwing some tremendous tantrums. Oy! I didn’t like it. Not one little bit. But I did finally get it. I accepted that she needed me to slow down. I realized that she needed me to get back into my body instead of zipping along fueled entirely by inspiration and manic brain fumes. I saw that she needed the quiet routines of our home life– and I needed them too.
Then, because my sundae needed a cherry, I had a session with my technology coach. We were planning to talk about exciting and thrilling things like podcasting and video and all kinds of media treats. Oh, the visions that danced in my head! Sweeter than sugarplums!
Only– my hard drive was full. And my software kept crashing because I wasn’t updating it properly. Oh, and I didn’t have a reliable system for backing up my data, and my files were a mess, and… Oy! I didn’t like it. Not one little bit. Cleaning up all those messes was not how I wanted to spend my time. I wanted to skip all that and jump straight to the part where my dreams turn into celestial spirals of audio and video.
And there I was, standing in my clients’ shoes again. I know exactly how they feel. They come to me ready to do The Big Thing. They’re eager to make the scary leap and watch it All Happen. They want me to help them be brave, think outside the box, and go renegade. And I am all about the big thing happening. I LOVE working with them on their wildest ideas. And the first step is almost always to clean up their messes and lay down new, more nurturing routines and practices.
This just doesn’t sound as fun. I signed up for leaping, dammit! Leaping!
Especially us dreamers; we really hate this part. When the beautiful new home needs to be picked up every single day. When the sweet little baby produces endless piles of laundry. When the sparkly new business plan requires spreadsheets. When the manuscript needs a total rewrite. When our mental narrative, our ‘story,’ begs for an overhaul. Ugh. Where’s the champagne and the fireworks?
But I have come to believe that it’s worth it. It feels so amazing to shine a light on the dark tangled parts of our lives– our money fears, our backed-up correspondence, our crazy packed schedules or the boxes of old mildewed books. We feel so solid when we set down routines that nurture us and keep us steady. For me, it was a fabulous investment to consult with a tech expert and spend some hours cleaning up the hash I’d made of my technology. Now my data gets backed up without me even having to think about it, my files are in order, I have space on my hard drive to do those dreamy projects I want to do, and– to top it all off– I finally learned to synch my iPhone! (I even have music on it. Seriously. It’s true, I am obviously a technological savant.)
So here I am, settling into this physical coil again much like I’m settling into December. I’m tying up loose ends. I’m laying the groundwork for next year. I’m getting ready for the holidays now so that I can enjoy them when they come. I keep having to remember to breathe, because there are so many thrilling things zipping around my mind that I can lose track of what I’m doing. Sometimes I chafe at the daily rituals of motherhood– endless meals, the all-sacred storytime, and the slippery slope of bathtime. I get bored with the business routines, too– filing boring things and putting boring things away in boring cupboards. I much prefer the all-nighter fueled by caffeine and adrenaline, or the last-minute frenetic rush of an impossible deadline. I like the mad dress-up spree where every single item of clothing I own is strewn across the apartment. much better than putting it all away again. I would rather make vision boards than spreadsheets any day of the week.
But here’s the thing. I have some serious shit to do. I think I’m here to do certain things in the world, and I think they’re important. And in order to do them justice, I have to connect my airiest dreams with the physical realities of running a business and having a child and being in this body that just doesn’t do well at warp speed.
So I’m learning to walk slower. And all this ritual, the cleaning and sorting and bathing and filing and making food and cleaning it up again, it keeps me grounded. It helps me remember to put my feet onto the earth and look up at the moon and listen intently when I am treated to long sagas about acorns. This physical life is like doing the snail dance, and it’s maddeningly slow, and it’s also exactly what I need to keep me connected to my intuition, my truth, and my knowing.
Because those deep forms of wisdom always speak to me through my body. And oddly enough, their teaching methods are a lot like my daughter’s– when I ignore the nudges, the quiet whispers, and the little flutters, then they escalate into aches and pains, depressions, and mighty skin tantrums.
So sit with me here. Wiggle in until you feel the weight of your body connecting with what’s holding it up. Not much happens. Maybe we’ll fold some laundry. We’ll do a little sweeping. We’ll breathe in and out. It’s excruciating. But if you tip your head back, you’ll see the stars.
