In my last post, I wrote about hoping, trying to open and deepen and awaken. What does that look like in my day-to-day life? Some of what I’m aiming for is tangible: meditating for 20 minutes a day several mornings a week. Writing (reflecting) often. Much of what I’m doing is less tangible. I’m trying to be in my body and in the world and in the moment in more mindful ways. Trying to hear the silence and listen to what comes out of it.
Pausing my work life has created a huge opening. For the first time since I started my career 15 years ago, there is space in my life for new, as of yet unknown “things” to enter. I have always been very Type A. I have always been very much a planner. I have always struggled to be still. And for the past 9 and one half years since my son was born, I have also juggled a fairly consuming career alongside the consuming life of a parent. When I think about when I’ve had “space,” I think about the week my family and I spend on a secluded island in August, when all of life’s “noise” falls away leaving a beautiful, internal quiet. I think about the 8 weeks of maternity I took when each of my two children were born, weeks that weren’t particularly quiet, but were beautifully simple in that all I had to do was focus on my babies. So much of my life in between my maternity leaves and our week in August has been filled with going, doing, rushing, fixing, thinking, making, doing, doing, doing. Just writing about it makes me breathless.
Looking back two years, five years, ten years from now, I expect I will think of the months when I was in treatment for breast cancer as a time when I had space. Creating that space has been intentional. I know I need it to truly open and deepen and awaken.