Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you. ~ Anne Lamott
Some people live on autopilot. According to one online site, autopilot means something happening—or doing something—automatically, without thought. In January 2020, I shared the key to a successful year: practicing resilience, or the ability to bounce back when knocked down; to “pivot” or change course. While it feels like this past year set the world on autopivot, our bodies are not machines made to live on “auto” anything—except to breathe. And following my latest post (see “Burnout vs. boredom…”), rather than add one more thing to my plate, I started intentionally creating space to “unplug” each day, as needed. This might look like stepping away from my desk (and technology) to fold a load of laundry, step outdoors, pray or meditate. Even within those few minutes, this practice rewards me with pockets of peace.
You seek discernment. Clarity. You toss your cares onto your Creator; catch His peace; invite direction; open yourself to areas in your life that require a good spring cleaning and then wait with expectation for the pieces to fall together. I’d like to think of this as aligning our spirits with the One who formed us. Although our human bodies “fall apart” over time—illness, atrophy, normal aging (i.e., the law of entropy, which suggests systems of change become less organized over time)—our spirits are designed for something greater. Thus, when our spirits are right with a Higher Power (you say universe, I say God)—the pieces fall together—seldom in perfect order, much like a dot-to-dot unveiling the vision of our Creator. Throughout my lifetime, I’ve stumbled upon various tools and teachers to help inform my purpose. And, finally, the proverbial stars and galaxies seem to be lining up. As a new friend recently said: It’s a God thing.
I love God’s sense of humor. Me: God, these are my plans for the month. God: Wrong. Granted, we’re only a week into the new year, but illness struck our home with a vengeance. What was that about best laid plans? Because my husband lives with asplenia (see “…from victims to victors”), he requires immediate medical attention upon the onset of fever. So, during the first weekend of 2020, when the Southwest desert temps reached 70 degrees (the nicest it’s been in weeks!), we spent a good part of it surrounded by three sets of four different walls, along with myriad healthcare personnel and other sick patients. But instead of the disappointment I’ve experienced in the past when my plans were turned topsy-turvy, a deep sense of peace settled within my spirit. Once established at home, while my husband rested, I took a brief walk outdoors and practiced yoga down the hall. And allowed my soul to catch up with my body.
On New Year’s Eve day, I awakened early, my spirit bubbling with anticipation. This is it, ready or not, the new year—the new decade (depending on which “camp” you reside)—begins in T minus 20 hours. And I decided right then—the scent of rich hazelnut coffee permeating my kitchen—I need a new identity to accompany the new year. I’m not talking about the witness protection change of identity but, rather, an identity that I can speak life into. One that I can fix my gaze on and watch unfurl. Not unlike a “word” you might choose (see “20/20 vision…”), it’s who you envision yourself to be. As for me: I’m a Godly woman, a loving and patient wife and mother, joyful worker, kind friend and gentle neighbor. I’m creative, organized and successful. Even when I fall short. Because the truth is: we’re a work in progress, ever evolving. Until we become who we were truly created to be.
Two days before Christmas, and all through the house (and workplace): I threw down a full-fledged menopausal meltdown. It was as if I’d been issued the challenge to: Go big, or go home. Eventually, I proceeded with both and dubbed myself the Grinch. But once I realized it was hormone related, I approached my muddled emotions with a clearer sense of direction. And that’s when I knew: my 20/20 vision and plans for “growth” aren’t about knocking out a bestseller (although at the top of my list) or greater financial stability (still up there), it’s about growing into the purpose for which I was created, and growing in the areas I mention in “…bidding farewell…”—my convictions, fortitude and peace. It’s about knowing who I am and growing in that knowledge, discovering and honing the tools I need to succeed. It’s about putting this season of all things menopause to work for me vs. against me. 2020, here I come!
How’s the year wrapping up in your world? Mine resembles a project still in the works: missing pieces to the puzzle; loose ends, tangled and frayed. Unfinished business: words left unspoken; goals unrealized. As well as one certainty: I don’t want to arrive at the end of my life or the end of next year—or the end of next month—without seeing progress. Although baby steps still mean we’re moving forward, we might fall on our hindquarters, take two steps back for each one we advance or veer off the original course. But we shouldn’t drop to our knees where we are and stop—unless it’s to pray. So as we bid farewell to 2019, I pray for: a clear vision for the New Year, favor to succeed, strength to overcome, confidence in our convictions and the peace that passes all understanding. And that any loose ends or unfinished business or missing pieces to the puzzle serve as stepping stones from one chapter to the next.
Cheers!
Image courtesy of Krishna arts at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.
Two weeks ago I began the following post. This morning I found it, nearly complete, on my computer. Although not timely in relation to the date on the calendar, it may still resonate for some as it does for me: Numerous emotions course through me just a week after my birthday celebrations (yes, plural). Gratitude as I observe each day as the gift it truly is. Love for family and friends as we embrace the spirit of Christmas mere days away. An indwelling of peace as a byproduct of restored relationships. Yet, even then, a sense of melancholy over unexplored opportunities. Grief and disappointment. “What if’s” and bittersweet memories. The should’ves, could’ves, would’ves. But a glimmer of hope remains—a brightly covered package I tear into each morning with renewed expectation. As we tie up our last-minute holiday shopping and baking, wrapping and socializing, I encourage each of us to pause and reflect on the clean slate ahead.
What is one thing you’d change about the past year?
Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.
Yesterday morning, as I drove through my neighborhood to work, my thoughts turned inward. Doubts began to intrude on my peace. Tears sprung to my eyes and I blinked to keep the waterworks from spilling over onto my cheeks. And then a beautiful thing happened: I remembered to look up. At that moment, the sunrise bursting through the clouds served as a reminder which I continue to reflect on time and time again: I am loved. I am here on this earth for a purpose. I matter. Even when I feel invisible or misunderstood, the Creator paints a canvas of hope upon my heart in order to reflect outward onto a hurting world. Dear friends, it’s easy to get caught up in the holiday frenzy. To feel insignificant, overwhelmed or broken. Even as I type these words, my heart squeezes with emotions I have yet to explore. But it’s enough, for now, to know that I need only look up.
This past year seems like it’s elapsed in a whirlwind, with my goal to pursue the power of P (peace, patience, purpose and a more passionate prayer life) being usurped by the practice of mindfulness. Which makes sense, because it’s a concept that involves each of these pursuits. This past weekend, the chance to practice mindfulness showed up in a big way: As is often the case, my plans on paper did not translate well into real time, and I quickly recognized the signs that signal my “breaking” point. Close to panic mode when the little piles and pressures in front of me become overwhelming, I turn inward and disengage. Oftentimes, this means a solitary trek into the mountains as a means of avoidance. This weekend, however, I opted to dodge all outside commitments to allow my soul to catch up to my body right where I was at. To let the day unfold with no agenda. And with no regrets.
What does your breaking point look like?
Image courtesy of Graphics Mouse at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.
In a recent post, “Information overload…” I list six key points that continue to rattle around in my mind. Point number five deals with a hurting heart: for a world that appears to have turned against itself (yes, I know there is still good to be found) and for those in my life who daily battle demons I cannot begin to fathom. And even for my own fractured dreams. However, when a dream we dream seems to die a sudden—or a slow and painful—death to the point where it is no longer recognizable, it’s time to bury it, bid it farewell and then muster up the courage to dream a new dream. Maybe we can salvage the once-upon-a-time ideal. The Someday mentality. Or perhaps we simply accept that our dream was biased, its outcome never within our reach from the beginning. This fresh understanding permits us to make peace with the past and forge a new future. To dream new dreams.
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