7:02am. Ryan is lying next to me, slowly rejoining the world. I took him to bed with me for some morning cuddles; he fell back asleep instead. Now I have the privilege of watching him wake up and truly greet the day. It may be my very favourite thing to do.
He opens his eyes and waits – for what, I’m not sure, but he waits. It’s raining outside. The light from the window is gentler this morning as it first brushes his eyes. He stares at the leaves on our tree in silent reverence. It’s true, they really are a wonder.
A few minutes pass. Heaven. He finally turns to me, pauses to recalibrate, and smiles. My baby boy is here. We take his sleep sac off, then the jammies and the sopping diaper. I barely have time to do up the fresh diaper before my gentle waker is on his belly practicing his crawling. He’s instantly everywhere. The energy is bursting out of him full throttle.
It’s now 7:14 and I wonder how on earth I’m going to keep my spirited boy entertained (and quiet!!) so that daddy can have a sleep-in downstairs. Hmm.
And then I see it: the Jolly Jumper. That should last us a good 15 minutes.
Letting go is difficult. Transitions are difficult. Slowing down can be excruciating.
I’ve spent the majority of the last two weeks at home resting, reading, watching movies, reading, resting, watching movies…
As I learn to settle into this new (temporary and transitional) phase of my life and let go of my former super-charged schedule, I keep mulling over these words:
“What if one day you realized the best moments in life come in the mundane, everyday moments? But you were only fully present on special occasions… And someday, I’ll be grateful I didn’t miss my life.”
It’s Sunday afternoon and the pre-workweek overwhelm has started to creep in.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been bouncing around like a ping pong ball. Meeting. Ping. Other meeting. Pong. Meeting somewhere else. PING! Awkward in-between half an hour at my desk. PONG! The worst part is, I feel like despite the busyness and the overwhelm, I’ve accomplished a whole heck of not much.
A colleague recently lent me Tim Ferriss’s The 4-Hour Workweek. I’m about 50 pages in and am floored by this book. It’s exactly what I needed.
The passage I just can’t shake has to do with the 80/20 principle – that “80% of results come from 20% of effort and time”.
If that’s true, why are we so busy? Because it seems a task will swell in perceived importance and complexity in relation to the amount of time it’s allotted. With the dinosaur 9-5 workday, we’ve got ourselves a lot of time to fill…
Translation: it’s unnecessary. At least 80% or so is.
“Being busy is a form of laziness – lazy thinking and indiscriminate action. […] It’s easy to get caught in a flood of minutiae, and the key to not feeling rushed is remembering that lack of time is actually lack of priorities.” Sigh. Yup.
All of this busyness has robbed me of my effectiveness, but more importantly, it’s also robbed me of my time to dream. More on that soon.
I found myself in a cafe yesterday, drinking a delicious Americano and eating a scrumptious brownie, waiting for one of my best good friends, contemplating life in my journal.
I do this often.
I wrote these words, “I love my life. I truly and utterly love my life. It’s strange, this contentment, and the silence that is left after the panic to fix things disappears.”
And then a nervousness crept in – what if I lose all of this?
This reaction is a product of a lot that has happened in my life and I think, on some level, it’s natural. We all fear change. And, like it or not, we could lose it all at any moment – we could lose our jobs, lose our partners, get sick. The bottom can drop out and we can’t control how or when.
So what’s left? What do we do?
Simple: cherish every single moment. Accept its fleetingness and give it an extra squeeze of love.