four versions of an early morning sky, seen while waiting for the school bus
1. Fantasy
I’ve been struggling recently with my limited energy and motivation. I can’t seem to do all the things I want to do. Not even close. Painting feels exhausting. I love to do it, and I’m grateful for having the ability to do it. But it’s still exhausting.
I try to get into the studio most mornings for three hours. Then I have the afternoons theoretically “free” for appointments, or administrative tasks, or even a coffee date with a friend. Or that was my fantasy anyway. However, the reality is that after painting all morning, I just need the afternoon to rest before my kids come home from school.
2. Rest
Like…really rest. Not catch up on email. Not meet with a friend for coffee. Not work on writing a blog post.
Just Rest.
Drink tea under a blanket on the couch and pet the cat. Stare at the wall. Maybe read an Agatha Christie novel. One that I’ve already read a few times. One where I already know who the murderer is.
3. Mortality
It’s easy to feel frustrated with my low energy and how little I seem to be able to do. Should I just forget about having friendships? Can I stop doing the laundry? How badly do we need groceries? Why does the car keep having problems? Everything feels important, and demands attention.
Often, my reaction to all the things I have to do is to shut down, curl up in a ball, and not do anything at all.
I recently read a good book by Oliver Burkeman called Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals. I loved it! He basically reminds his readers that life is short, and it’s actually impossible to “get everything done.” It’s impossible. And that’s a relief! That means we can quit stressing about it so much. If it’s impossible, then it’s impossible. It’s no good getting angry with ourselves for not being able to do something that is impossible.
4. Humilty
There’s a quote in Burkeman’s book which I underlined.
“…if you can step more fully into the condition of being a limited human…” then your life can be valued by “not how many people you helped, or how much you got done; but that working within the limits of your moment in history, and your finite time and talents, you actually got around to doing—and made life more luminous for the rest of us by doing—whatever magnificent task or weird little thing it was that you came here for.”
So, here’s to working within our limits with some humility and grace. Let’s celebrate our small, weird little accomplishments. It’s probably enough just to be kind, to be present, and to remember how special it is to be alive.