My little Magpie frequently begs to go through the boxes at the top of her closet. When curiosity gets the best of us, I drag them down and open each box’s lid. Memories flood the room as old cards, work papers, ticket stubs, and bent-cornered photos come tumbling out.
The other day, I did a Deep Dive, looking up old acquaintances, checking in on bloggers I used to follow, and getting to know the digital personas of people I’ve recently met in real life. I even reactivated my paused Facebook account, which I found I hadn’t really missed after all.
Right now we’re in … week 3? 4? 1 million? of staying at home to hopefully flatten the coronavirus (COVID-19) curve and naturally my brain is on budgeting and finances. Whether you’ve lost your job or are just being intentionally frugal in the face of the unknown (and the general state of the economy, yikes!), you’re likely thinking about money too.
Reading 168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think has challenged me to think broadly about what I want for my life. I’m currently on a two-week break from work, which has freed up some mental space for dreaming, too.
I mentioned previously that this year I want to make progress on the things that matter to me: creating, writing, and painting. In a day and age when it seems like we’re being pulled into hundreds of different directions, finding time for what matters can feel like an insurmountable feat.
Have you ever seen a beehive, the kind with glass sides that lets you look in on hundreds of shimmying bodies milling about, each one pressing against another until they become one vibrating mass?
I recently listened to one of my favorite new-ish podcasts, Best of Both Worlds. In one episode, author and speaker Laura Vanderkam talked about re-framing mom guilt by calling it wistfulness. Vanderkam said that instead of feeling guilty when you’re working and subsequently not with your children, you should instead acknowledge the feeling as wistfulness–a feeling of longing for something while also knowing not all ideal situations can exist in the same moment.
I used to worship at the altar of busy. I would flit from one thing to the next, arriving late to each function and meeting, guzzling down so much Diet Coke my body would be humming, my heart skipping every other beat.
Sometimes when I’m having a bad day, or just feeling wistful, I’ll spend some time thinking about how different my life will look in five years. This exercise helps me a). realize that many of the things currently bothering me won’t matter at all down the line, b). know that even when it’s hard to see progress towards bigger goals, in five years, those accomplishments may be in the rear-view window, and c). helps me pinpoint what I can and should focus my energies on now to get to where I want to be later.
I once saw a woman ahead of me in line at my local paint store. Her long wavy dark hair was woven in and out with silver threads. Birkenstocks adorned her feet and her jeans were a little ripped. Her taut arm bore a floral tattoo sleeve and her tanned face showed the first hint of well won wrinkles.