This creative and conversational memoir style of blogging is embellished with photographs, sprightly texts, and gentle listening features. May these entries be as cathartic to read & to hear as they have been to conceive & to share. xo
The leaves are slowly changing, my friends.
I feel like they need to catch up with my pace.
Its been a busy start of fall, dears.
I am living off of a school's calender again,
and a part time barista work schedule,
-- and other work positions when I can --
and art marketing/entrepreneurial weekends,
and trying to construct a more balanced daily routine so to slip into some more self care.
I feel that is the cue to chuckle a little in the irony of me placing the words "routine" with "self-care" together. Fluidity > structure is much more my spin on my typical self-preservation story.
The last few years I've embraced a simple, intentional, and slow paced way of life, and has remained an over arching goal of mine.
Waking when I've received enough sleep.
Walks with no distinct destination.
Listening for that inner voice to prompt my next activity.
Running into a friend at the unplanned-yet-ideal time to collect hugs,
to really listen,
to really see,
to pass on a good word.
and get encouraged to see the next divine intervention.
Living with a greater amount of flexibility and openness allows for the gift of time:
for what comes,
and who needs
what time I can give.
And now what has come is a lot of school,
but not a lot of true time with those people,
and not a lot of true time for my people:
roommates I haven't seen in days,
friends and family I haven't seen or spoke with in weeks,
friends and family I haven't called back in months -- you know who you are ;] .
My heart hurts to think of it.
The "what comes" for me are often quality time, spirit, and person focused,
so when the less engaging paper and task focused "what comes" present themselves instead, a part of me feels like it dies a little.
Blessed is the person whom can juggle more than I and still have a good attitude, for theirs' is the way of light!
I get cut off my own twist of a beatitude, cause I have not been able to breathe much life onto others, or self, in the midst of what to most would be a normal life, or minor scheduling faux pas.
Good thing I am attempting the counseling field -- I can practice extending a little more grace on myself and less comparison.
But a portion of me wonders
how much of my small threshold for a busy life
is due to my thorough nature and
how much is the child of my own privilege...
I struggle with this temptation towards guilt, and those ever present questions:
Is sacrificing the greater numbers of the little moments of intentionality during this grad-school sized span of time worth the ultimate outcome?
Do I have to choose between mindfulness with people and mindfulness with studies or is both possible?
Thich Naht Hanh recently posted:
"It is possible to live twenty-four hours a day in a state of love.
Every movement, every glance, every thought, and every word can be
infused with love."
As idealistic as it seems, I like to believe that it is possible.
I rest on the Lama's reminders too:
Life is suffering
and our purpose is happiness.
Coincidental timing, we are studying self care in my Ethics course, as well. -- I do really love my school and program. Wick, author of The Resilient Clinician, proclaims our role as a counselor is to be a safe space for our clients, and to be that is not possible without personal reverence and self care protocol. He poses questions to have the reader inquire on what practices and reflection we can fold into our lives to allow us to usher in more joy, balance, and peace; to sustain that wholly and effect personhood: "safe space" counselor and beyond.
I am on the bandwagon of these believers
that happiness begets happiness,
and peace begets peace.
So I did some of those slow paced life things which make me happy
and give me some peace of mind Friday--
for the sake of self and hopefully, eventually, the sake of others.
I even got to run into some unexpected friends along the way,
getting to collect some hugs and good words!
To really look.
To really listen.
To really smell.
To really taste.
To really touch.
To really feel.
To really think.
To really breathe.
To really start listening to the inner voice--
that internal compass helps to maneuver,
and to start writing this guy.
So whether this read gives you a little joy-- if you can relate to the sentiments in some regard -- but, if nothing else, hopefully some of you in close proximity will benefit by me just getting this off my chest. I already feel like I can exude a little more love again and think to whisper a little something nice into a mocha. (You can get that mocha at Bee Coffee Roasters sometimes ;] !) Until next, do some things that bring you some peace and joy.
The feeling spreads. xo
This creative and conversational memoir style of blogging is embellished with photographs, sprightly texts, and gentle listening features. May these entries be as cathartic to read & to hear as they have been to conceive & to share.