Countless emails in my inbox imploring me to get in on Cyber-Monday deals… that feeling of trying to filter it all out but feeling that it has clogged up my internal operating system somehow.
My plan is to give myself extra quiet time tonight, wind down early and allow for some rest from it all. My body and mind feel tired. What I have learned in my last couple of years is to honor that call for rest.
The beautiful discovery about this rest, when I take it, is that I discover nothing falls apart when I take that time away. It is all still there when I return, though usually I have fresh perspective on it.
How often do you turn everything off and allow for rest? What happens as a result?
This morning I was contemplating joyfully and with some curiosity the blank canvas that is the next chapter of my work life. It feels like a fresh start, that opportunity to re-invent my daily rituals, hone my purpose, and choose the colors for the palette.
Though I am not a visual artist, and only dabble with colors and fun materials now and then, I can appreciate that excitement of a blank canvas. As a writer, it is a little like the blank page, that space of infinite possibility before the words start spilling out. I face it with excitement, and a little unknowing. Where will this go? What am I trying to say?
Since I generally write to understand any new concept, or even myself, there is always an air of mystery about it. As a blogger, I have learned to embrace the empty page as a sacred space where I am invited to create. It is our greatest privilege as humans, our creative energy, and I think it is where we meet our divinity.
I find that I want to experiment a bit, not to rush into splashing color onto the page, but to spend some time preparing the colors, feeling what wants to emerge. I greatly appreciated my solitude yesterday and the ability to respect the rhythm of my body, working and resting in a ratio that felt right. My coach and I decided on some “homework” for the next week, and I was able to accomplish the items on my list.
If I were an artist, I would run my hands along the blank canvas, noting its texture and honoring this gift. I shall have to resist a trip to the art store to do this, but maybe it is time to get out my colors and sketch pad.
Do you have a ritual for honoring the “blank canvas” times in your life?
Yesterday we arrived at the Milton of Cambus Farmhouse Airbnb (in Doune, Scotland) that I had booked on Saturday when I decided that another two days of train trips to get back to London from Edinburgh was too much.
As we arrived, I realized it was the best decision I had made for this trip. Feeling a bit weary of train travel, these two introverts on the road on day 11 were feeling in need of open space, field of sheep and cows, fresh air and time away from crowds. Here at the farmhouse we received those wishes.
Our hosts, Rosemary and David, have been so kind. Knowing that we lacked transportation, they picked us up at the airport and even offered a lovely dinner for a small fee, even though they do not usually provide that. We are the first guests that have arrived without a car, and they seemed so willing to make us feel at home.
My only regret is that we do not have longer to stay here. They are travel writers, and they publish a number of Simple Guides and Safari Maps covering places here in Scotland as well as East Africa. Their books on the Maasai Mara region and Kenya are beautifully illustrated and get me thinking about traveling there, even though this area was not high on my list before.
We told them last night how this experience of staying with them is “breaking the curve” on every Airbnb (and regular B&B) experience we have had so far. David explained that they have often had such good treatment while traveling, and they like to provide what they would want to their guests, as much as possible. What a lovely way to look at hosting.
During this trip we have had 6 other Airbnb hosts, and they varied widely in the quality of what they were able to offer. Some were limited by the space and neighborhoods they had, so that was not within the control of the hosts. Some were highly interactive and others more withdrawn and absent.
As introverts, we do not need or want constant conversation with our hosts or other guests at the Airbnb. But I think it is important to feel welcome, or at least feel as though we are not an imposition on the host. Learning some history about an area or receiving suggestions about local activities is a precious part of hosting. Feeling welcome and cared for is such a great gift.
We fly back to London today for our final Airbnb in Canary Wharf before returning home this Wednesday. I am so grateful for this time and for our journey together on this trip. I am sure to process it and write more in the coming weeks. For now, I am just grateful we have had time away to rest and relax. I am starting to miss my cats and my own bed.
I really enjoyed this piece from Longreads. Of course, it’s on a theme I enjoy contemplating. It made me want to dine alone in public now and then, even though I have little objection to room service when I am traveling alone.
We’re eating alone more often than in any previous generation. But why should a meal on our own be uninspired? Why shouldn’t the French saying “life is too short to drink bad wine” still apply?