As I tiptoe back into a world of unchecked boxes, meeting reminders, and my little face staring back at me in Zoom, there is much to be thankful for.
The last seven weeks without responsibility nor a plan have opened up so many areas in need of tidying, flowers for pruning inside my soul.
One of the most unexpected delights was rediscovering youthful passions. This happened unexpectedly but immediately. Hey you, yes you! Are you finally ready to listen? This inner voice took me exactly where I needed to go at exactly the right time.
Collecting the tools to create
At the start, all I knew was that I wanted to make things, lots of things. And I needed tools to do so.
After stalking eBay, I purchased a gently used Leica camera, which I’ve wanted for a solid 6 years and could never justify the price tag. Taking my new companion on adventures worthy of its attention, and sharing the bounties as gifts lit a flame I forgot I had.
Wanting to avoid screens like I do spiders, Mark bought me a typewriter—which I thought was maybe going to be for writing the book I’ve always wanted to write. But placing my finger pads on the keys inspired a wave of poetry I didn’t know was inside me. I soon began collecting poetry books, of which reading has become part of my morning ritual.
And I got a new notebook to take with me to the hospital. To draw and write, even write for this blog, which is new. I now have a writing practice, to take the story—this pain—outside of my chest and place it in a beautiful frame to help me remember and reflect but also move through it.
Opening into curiosity
With the tools in my pocket and time on my side, I had the freedom to explore. Some days I woke up and turned left. Other days right. I was hesitant to plan anything outside of the 24 hours that lay before me. A new rhythm began to emerge, a recipe of an ideal day: time to create, time in nature, move my body, learn something new, eat healthy, sleep (night and naps), reflect, and repeat. Hour by hour, I began to unstick the sticky parts beneath my skin, like my fear of failure and understanding what’s causing my tumor to grow (more blog posts on this soon). I noticed myself smiling more, dancing around the house, and feeling a sense of abundance.
Unplanned activities started becoming rituals:
Ayurvedic “cleansing”: tongue scraping, oil pulling, meditation, and neti pot
Ginger lemon tea and morning pages
Trail exploration
Capturing my experiences in photos and words
Making healing gifts for others
Integration
With these meandering thread now rituals, I’m now working to integrate them into my life—“real life.” I’m trying to do this while also holding my legacy—the clarity I have for what my purpose is and what I want to unfold in my time on this Earth. It feels like learning how to ride a bike again, wobbly and free, wind tickling my exposed teeth. Trying to get to my destination while not falling on my face.
Before going back to work, I prepared a one page doc for the team of new practices, and projects to start, stop, and continue. I am in the fortunate position of being able to dictate my scope of work and the projects I work on. New practices include things such as batching my 1:1s and doing them via walking Tuesday mornings and adding a note on my calendar for how to schedule time with me. The work I’ll start and continue are those aligned with my life’s purpose and include new skills I hope to acquire and sharpen.
Moving forward
I’m anxious, I’m excited. More than anything, I am rested. It’s from this place of rest that I can see clearly. Will it work out as I plan? Does anything? Yet I am hopeful this reconnection to my inner child will help guide me to where I need to go. Show me the way towards healing, freedom, and truth. And that is all I can ask for.