The wind is blowing hard outside as the rain pelts this too-parched earth, and I am thankful. Life has changed drastically for me since I closed the spa in August. I still can't get my house as clean as I would like, and sometimes I feel a sense of urgency as I fall asleep; my toes tapping together while I run through lists of things to do the next day. I really believed that this year, I would have time to divide those crowded irises, organize the linen closet, pare down my life. Some of it has happened, but I am still learning to resist my perfectionist urges, accept this process with a gentle heart, and discover how to be.
On a typical day, I wake up around 6am with my husband, and we welcome the morning with hot mugs of coffee and time spent together. Many times, he gets up first and brings my cup to me upstairs. It's funny how much that makes me feel loved. Earlier in November, we spent a long weekend in Santa Barbara to celebrate our 22nd anniversary, because we didn't have time in May. It's been so good to spend unhurried time with him. It's amazing how all the annoying things that drove me crazy when I was working 70 or 80 hours a week don't even register anymore. It wasn't him, it was pure overwhelm.
After coffee, I'll sit at the dining room table that now serves as my office when I'm home, and review my plan for the day, listening to whatever kind of music suits my mood, singing along with no one to hear but the dog. Sometimes I choose to wrap myself in silence like a big, cozy blanket. I shuttle between the house and my workshop several times a day in my shearling slippers, talking to the dogs or the cats, or even the pair of mourning doves that visits us. At the end of a long, productive day on my feet, my back and legs might ache, but I don't really mind, because my work days actually end now. That's nice. I rarely work past 8pm, and I try to stop by 6.
I still wrestle with feelings of guilt for the indulgence of not being 'productive' every waking moment, but I also know there is no truth in these feelings; these internal complaints of a workaholic nervous system being denied its fix. It's a process.
All in all, my life is not very exciting. There is no drama, and what a relief that is. I can sit quietly typing this while it rains outside, looking at the mountains. I am actively removing busy-ness, so I have time to breathe. To light a candle and some incense, and quietly pray.
I firmly believe that I am being supported in this. Door after door has been opened, including one I never expected, or even sought after. One of those intricately carved, massive doors that beckons like a gift, offering dreams fulfilled to those who pass through. I am approaching that door. But, rather than striving and straining for it, I am allowing my feet to find their way, and trusting in the timing and outcome.
Maybe you've noticed I'm not posting regularly on social media, and am not constantly pushing and promoting my skin care with emails, etc...and it seems I've fallen off the earth. I promise you are not forgotten, and I believe you also would appreciate less busy-ness in your life to allow time for the things that matter. Less emails, less social media, more real connection. It's ironic that one reason I opened the spa was to bring a sense of peace and connection to others, but I completely lost it myself in the process. I'm practicing making better choices, and that may mean instead of creating a Facebook post, I hike through the woods with the dogs to restore my soul.
I'll be 49 years old in December, and this is life-transition time. Reevaluating what works and what doesn't. Clarity on values. I hope, wisdom. And while I may have been on this beautiful earth almost half a century, I'm just now learning how to live. This is the beginning of a new chapter, a journey, and I am thankful for it.