I can’t go that fast!

In my earlier work-life, I was the queen of busyness. Buzz, buzz, so many flowers from which to gather pollen on a daily basis. Oh, and networking opportunities. Get on it! Now!

Just recalling, leaves me needing a nap.

In those ancient days, there were no digital devices for calendaring events. Just a regular ol’ calendar notebook, purchased each December for the upcoming New Year. It was the written measure of everything I did.

Yours truly pretty much swallowed, whole, our cultural mores equating a full calendar with an appropriate work ethic. Gotta be really busy to demonstrate my worth. That apex of measures, my calendar, was brimming with appointments. A look at my filled calendar evoked a sense of relief, “I’m on the right path to proving my worth (aren’t I?”)

Whoa! To whom was I proving my worth?

Them! You know, the external gods of appropriate work-life worthiness! Reflected in this commonplace greeting, “Hey, how are you? You been busy?” Bowing to our idols of sacred busyness.

Oy.

Perusing my calendar daily, I’d feel incredibly anxious, squeezed, as if I couldn’t breathe. I was on the right path culturally, wasn’t I, according to the worthy measure of my jam-packed calendar?

Sigh, I just went right on ignoring the uncomfortable feelings about my brimming calendar. Those cultural expectations just had me cowed, dammit!

Whoa, what about my own expectations?

You mean, I could actually have my own unique work expectations? My own? No one told me. Busyness drove my life. I wanted my culture’s blessings

Clearly, the universe felt I needed something different. One morning, I found it incredibly difficult to get out of bed. All I wanted was to sleep. A stubborn case of walking pneumonia settled in for a (therapeutic?) visit.

Calling all deck hands! (That’s you, Jan.) Life reframe desperately needed. Requiring a shove (well, that’s what it was!) in the direction of my, now-lifetime, inward listening practice. (Hey, universe, a belated thanks.)

Herewith, are vaguely remembered, life-changing, snippets from my enforced time of inward listening. Hats off to walking pneumonia, says she bowing.

“You are not a a person who thrives on speediness, the hyper buzz, buzz, of a jam-packed calendar.”

“Oh, wow, what is wrong with me that I can’t sustain the normal cultural pace of a speedy, busy, work life?”

“Absolutely NOTHING is wrong with you. Everyone has a natural speed unique to them and it doesn’t always reflect cultural norms. A speedy life overrides your particular creative rhythms.”

“Oh.”

“My personal speed? What the heck is that?”

“A pace that nurtures your life, not draining you of creative energy. Listen to the creative streams flowing through you, not dammed up by shoulds.”

“Learn to notice your body’s cues: “yes to this,” “no to that” or “I can’t tell at the moment.” You may be out of step with norms of cultural busyness, but you’ll be in step with your own growing uniqueness. Discern the pace that nurtures you. It’s worth it.”

And it has been.

A re-write of a July, 2024 post