I’ve had multiple conversations this week with people (in particular, high-achieving women with ADHD) who are struggling to find rest, balance, and priority among competing demands. My gosh, did I relate to that. Part of my memoir-writing process is going back and reading old journal entries, which is not only helping add texture to memory-fogged scenes, but is also bringing clarity to patterns in my life - one of which is heaping an abundance of priorities on my plate and becoming worn down by the very things that excite me.
When I lived in Austin, I worked with a spiritual director for some time, until Covid disrupted our regular meetings. She had long, fine, white hair, which she always wore down, and an ease about her that just oozed wisdom. Once, I scurried to our meeting, late and breathless, running from a commitment across town. I felt so humbled by her grace when she greeted me, smiling, in the always too-warm room, her candles flickering in the lazy afternoon heat. I can’t remember what mound of responsibilities I must have dumped on her one day, but I do remember her response: “Sometimes your no can be an opportunity for someone else’s yes.” It was a simple revelation, yet profound. Never before had I considered that saying “no” could actually be a good thing, not only for myself, but for someone else, too.
I need to be reminded of this sometimes. When I do lean into this practice, I feel abundant and creative - like I can actually give the best of myself. My most authentic moments as a writer are slow mornings, pen to paper in a gifted journal, perched in my favorite cozy armchair. My most present moments as a friend have come after I’ve met my own physical and spiritual needs, when I’m prepared to feel connected to someone else’s energy, rather than burdened by it.
I haven’t worked out an exact formula for perfecting my balance. But that’s because there isn’t one. In yogic philosophy, one of the core ethical guidelines (yamas) is called aparigraha, or non-possessiveness. It is the willingness to let things go. When everything feels important, when I am tumbling about between commitments, it is usually because my ego has gripped very tightly onto some identities or values or achievements it has decided it needs. How freaking terrifying to let go. To trust that whatever I am outside of these commitments is enough, that I’ll be satisfied with bare limbs when I let my leaves fall. Yet what has proven to be true every time I am brave enough to test it is that my soul ALWAYS knows. When I get quiet enough to listen, I may not like what it says I need to let go of. I can choose to ignore it. But when I do - what space it creates.
Today, a little love letter for my soul. I hope it resonates. Read on or listen below.
When It All Feels Important Stop working so hard. Let your shoulders fall out of your ears and Gratitude fall out of your eyes Like rain. Let your coffee go cold, and sip at it anyway, If you want to. Tell your friends you love them, And like a bear, You need to hibernate sometimes. Let windchimes, Squeaky brakes, And the inconsistent volley of a pickleball be your music. Wear your silly tube socks with shorts, and Make friends with the person behind you in line. Real old books that feel more like prayers, They're so forged in your memory. Leave a dish undone for tomorrow, and Cocoon yourself in bed so early You're almost embarrassed. Spend twenty minutes Finding the right jar and Coaxing a spider from the sink, Re-homing it gently in the grass. Write a love letter to yourself or a friend, To the sturdy plant in your windowsill you're surprised you haven't killed yet. Do it all for you, For nothing more than delight and whimsy, And when they ask if you have regrets, You will watch them slip down With the current Out from which you have waded.
Share this post