”Are you willing to begin again today?”
This prompt really reveals the heart, doesn’t it? Because each moment is new and can be creatively reimagined, but the will must be given permission. I often need persuaded to let go of the broken things from yesterday. So, when asked what habits I will create today to become a better me, I’d say releasing is the priority.
In my last post I explained what the direction of this next year will be for me - deep listening. Over the course of the last few weeks, I have avoided the silence with as much intensity as I have deeply craved it. Similar to the way a person preparing for a fast subconsciously "stocks up" on calories beforehand, I have gluttoned out on everything overstimulating and fruitless. It's like I dove head-first into the media pool to make myself sick so I wouldn't miss it. I think I've succeeded.
I started reading a book called "Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less." While I'm almost weary from any sort of input from books (particularly nonfiction) and podcasts, I was really drawn to this book. It seems to be complimentary to the changes I wish to make in life. I have such incredible decision-fatigue that I feel I can no longer sort the essential from the non-essential. That was one of the main goals of this year of listening: to get some perspective about what to hang on to, and what to let go of. I'm too close and it all seems impossible to reduce.
The first lesson that really stuck out to me had to do with the power of choice. Specifically, that I actually have one. While I logically know this, the busyness of my life persuaded me otherwise. While life with a large family quantifies a laundry list of responsibilities and therefore reduces certain options laid before me on the daily, I have equated that with not having a choice at all. I have learned helplessness; feeling unable to control my time or options and always having to choose the best of what was presented to me instead of realizing I could simply reimagine the possibilities altogether. Having the freedom of choice and having reduced options are two entirely different beasts. Being reminded that I have the ability to take the lead in what and how I choose, is incredibly empowering (and incredibly simplistic, I know).
I used to be addicted to busyness, now I can hardly sit down when I want to. I have realized though, after starting this revelatory book (and this recent aversion to the silence), that I actually still am addicted to the busyness. I may not have large blocks of time to sit and do what I want, but I do have spaces throughout the day that are used foolishly. Instead of taking those moments as a pause from the chores or needs of children, I don't stop. I busy myself with more and more meaningless tasks that add to my agitation and overstimulation instead of unwinding, gathering my thoughts, processing all of the input I keep stuffing myself with. I busy myself with things that are non-essential burdens to my day that trick me into thinking that I don't have a spare second. And sometimes, I busy myself with the duties of life that, at times, need to take a backseat to my humanity, too.
So, while it seems insane to have to allot blocks of media-free/input-free time, it's necessary to the simpler life that I am after, and conducive to the "deep listening" that I had planned for this year. There's something freeing about designating times to allow myself to think or read the bible or just not feel pressed to make phone calls or answer emails or switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer if I have 10 spare minutes. It's freeing to remember that I have a choice outside of the ridiculous habits that I have formed.
Overall, I am incredibly excited to use the principles in this book to help me determine what I want to be priority in my life, and to know how to continuously reassess my wants and needs. I am hopeful that the details of my life will go from the erratic frenzy that they are now, to a true, life-giving expression of my deepest desires. That to me, is most essential.
This time of year creates an intense lure to silence. Winter is a naturally romanticized time of year that can make a mere mug of tea a spiritual experience. It has a gravity that pulls at the deepest parts of myself to be still and to listen. The snow creates a silence that's difficult to overlook. My focus instinctively repositions inward, and there seems to be a graceful permission to change pace, to slow down, to be present and enjoy what is immediately before us.
Of course, with 5 children, silence is a rare and cherished gift. While I typically long for moments of quiet, I'm not just talking about the kind of silence that is a mere soundlessness, but a silence that is deep and cultivated. Silence as an experience that opens up feelings and helps me to identify the noise that I carry within.
This last year my anxiety was omnipresent. I couldn't seem to escape it. It surpassed being situational, therapy only helped so much, nothing made it better, and most things made it worse. It's there in part because I have been exceptionally good at stuffing skeletons in my closet. It's there because I am not good at feeling my feelings, but thinking about them. While I'm not blaming myself for my anxiety or trying to oversimplify the causation, I do know that the visceral set of "facts" that my body has stored and lived by, need some attention. Silence is a quiet attunement to hear what my body and emotions have been trying to speak to me, and that I am finally ready to hear. There are several spiritual disciplines that have proven worthy of my time and attention, there are also some very practical ways that I can help myself not to feel so overwhelmed and frantic.
This is my tentative focus for the year:
While I don’t expect these practices to cure my anxiety, I do expect that they will enliven, rejuvenate, and help anchor me to the Spirit of life that keeps one hoping and whole. I need to practically relearn what I was created for, and the best way to know that, is to go to the source of life itself. These disciplines will help me to slow down, to make space from the chaos of human-stimuli, to disengage from the non-essentials, and to focus my time and energy on hearing the One who can lead me to freedom if I could just hear his voice.