Ever had that experience where you feel like you need to say, do, or write something and when you attempt to give it a go, nothing happens? I’m having one of those moments. I keep getting this nudge to open a new post and write, but all that’s happening is I’m distracting myself with Cocoa-Krispies and Facebook and music. No writing is happening. Neither is my homework.
Perhaps it’s because I’m on silence overload.
You see, I’ve been watching my two nephews who are full of energy and go nonstop from waking until, well, waking the next day – they’re even talkative and busy in their sleep. Add to that, the excitement of my mom and daughter joining us for most of the weekend and it turns into a raucous party and a house full of bouncy energy, laughter, love, and celebratory distractions.
Now I feel a little numb and undirected. It’s just me for a few hours until the youngest comes home. I probably ought to be using this time wisely – like for the homework I haven’t been able to make myself focus on at all this weekend – but it’s just not working out that way.
I am pondering that… curious about why I feel not compelled to do that which I know I should do. I am fairly confident that it is closely linked to the abundance of fear and the fact that this semester’s load of homework is ghastly.
It could also be because there is something that I’m supposed to write (I have no idea what it is) and I’m distracting myself from delivering the message.
My facebook status today reads as follows:
And when you rise to greet the day, you are alive and awake and, thereby, willing to be fully present for what life will send your way that day. Or not. It is your choice.
And, when I wrote it, it was as though someone was using my fingers to write it. I had no idea what letter was going to come next, or what the end sentence would be. I just typed whatever letter I was inspired to write and ended up with the quote.
Interestingly enough, I am sitting at the kitchen table here, watching the rising glory of this day as the world glistens with frosty iciness and crystalline skies. And, as I do this, a magpie flew right toward the window and landed at an impossible angle, clinging to the window frame without so much as a flutter. This bird is HUGE! One of the biggest magpies I’ve ever seen – and it could be because he is only four feet from me. I watched him walk across the grass, looking for breakfast, then fly straight for me. It was startling. I was afraid he was going to slam his beak into the window!
But he knew what he was doing, where he was heading and how he would do it. He did it so gracefully, I can only assume that it is part of his morning routine.
This is what willingness is like when you make a commitment to it. It becomes second nature so you can be like that magpie, flying straight into certain disaster, knowing all the while that you’re going to land perfectly, gently and with finesse. Perhaps, the first time it’s not as graceful and you can hope, for that time, no one is watching. But, as with practically everything in life, with practice, being willing becomes second nature.
So, this morning, I am willing to be with what is. I don’t want to do my homework. I don’t want to do any chores. I don’t want to come up with any wise message to deliver. I don’t want to “use this time wisely.” Instead, I’m going to soak in the silence, gaze out the window and simply BE. Maybe I’ll allow myself to rest.
For me, that is a vast improvement over what I used to demand of myself. And while I know that others may call it lazy, I’m calling it a victory.