It's a clock. The sound of a clock's rhythmic tick. I hear that out here. And those were stars. In the sky. I know because I saw 'em last night when I arrived here after dark. Such are the observations that stand out to me this morning as I slowly move around this house and realize that all my deadlines? They are either behind me, or have been strategically put on hold. And today my job is to just be.
Do you have any idea how
tricky challenging difficult seemingly impossible this is for me? Although evidence suggests otherwise, I don't completely take pride in telling you this. I like the thought of taking walks in these woods (which I actually might do a little later,) and sitting in one of the adirondack chairs, just staring off into the distance. It's just fairly unnerving, is all I'm saying. Unnerving to have actually succeeded in setting up a schedule in which I could take a whole day just for myself. Without a plan or a deadline or an obligation. Sure, there's stuff waiting for me to address. But I promised myself that today I would really and truly let everything go. As best I can.
This past week has been a blur of packing, of loading and unloading trucks, and 14 hour workdays, and printer deadlines, and urgently returned phone calls, and triple-checking lists and I can't really tell you what all else for fear of bringing a sense of anxiousness into my calm oasis. And now that I'm here, 20 miles outside of town, fairly deep in the woods, where I'll be house sitting for my friends for a while, I'm going to see what I can learn about relaxation. It even suggested so on my fortune cookie. "Often the best medicine is the absence of everything." Interesting timing, that.
And so after I post this, I'm going to ignore the emails that can be returned a little later (though one of 'em makes me feel a little guilty to think of putting off too long, Dena, so maybe I'll have the energy for that in a little while,) and go practice doing nothing. My aching muscles? My foggy mind? They tell me it's time. That not resting leads to nothing good. And this place at this time? It's a gift. And I should willingly accept it.
I'm working on it...