I am back. Back from being swept up in the great gust that comes with the start of fall. That whirl of my groups returning, the fall retreat, 3 workshops, 2 college drop-offs, and a college visit, along with training a puppy. Let's just say it's been full. And even as I write all of that, the content of today's A Mindful Pause is about how I am doing less, feeling behind, and yet aware of how I am changing and the need to embrace it. This is for any of you who may relate.
I have a clear memory of sitting by the pool with my grandmother and great aunts when I was about 12, hearing them comment on how incredible it was to watch us, how much energy we had. At the time I couldn't imagine what they felt watching us. Granted, they were older than I am now, but still, I am starting to recognize what they meant. At almost 52 with both kids in college, I look back at what I was doing just two years ago and I can't imagine still having to do that now, let alone what I was managing when they were younger and needed even more. That thought is followed by a quick jolt of fear that something must be wrong with me. Why don't I have that stamina, drive, capacity in me anymore? I'm not old! And then I come to my senses.
On the fall retreat, which centered around the theme of inspiration, I made room for the idea that inspiration changes throughout our lives and we can allow it to change. What inspired us at one time may no longer inspire us later. I no longer want to hike for hours, kayak for miles, or fill up my days. Nothing's wrong, but sometimes it can feel like it is. I am simply changing, as I should.
If you recognize this in yourself, it can feel scary, as if we are losing something. This fear could cause us to double down and insist that we still ski like we did at 30, or party hard, or fill our schedules because that's what a successful person does. Or, if we tend to this fear honestly, it can awaken us to something new. A new delight that doesn't look at all like the previous ones. Or maybe it's a gentler version, like going on three runs down the mountain instead of 10, or a 45-minute hike, instead of hours on a trail. If we demand that we keep the same pace, amount, or content, we are fighting the natural order of things. We are resisting what's actually here, which eventually causes us suffering. Instead, we can let ourselves be inspired anew.
No, I can't imagine doing what I did 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 20 years ago. I am no longer inspired by productivity, achievement, recognition, or physical and mental stamina. I am inspired by the single red leaf falling through a bright blue sky on an October day. I am inspired by watching people share themselves genuinely. I am inspired by reading a great novel that captivates my attention. I am inspired by the fullness of an ordinary experience, which is anything but ordinary if we are fully present to it.
My invitation this week is to ask yourself, "If I let go of what I used to be inspired by or driven by or what I think I 'should' still do, and lean into what really calls me forward now, what awakens in me?" More than one person on the retreat said they felt like they "should" take a walk in the woods because that's what they always did when they were in the country, but they actually just wanted to rest. They listened to themselves and heard a different desire.
If we let go of the ideas we have of ourselves and what may have been part of our identity before, what does it make room for? What's alive now? Not what's gone now, but what's coming to life here at this age and in this time? Please share what comes. I am happy to listen.
Wishing you a colorful and bright close to October and a Happy Halloween spent doing just what you want to do.
🎃
Jean
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