Speedy Jan….vroom, vroom.
In my early 20’s work-life, I was the queen of busyness. Buzz, buzz, buzz, so many flowers from which to gather pollen on a daily basis. Whew! This, that, and omigosh, all the networking opportunities needed to grow a nonprofit. Super buzz, buzz…
In those ancient days, there were no devices for easily calendaring events and meetings. Just a regular ol’ calendar notebook, purchased each December for the upcoming New Year. It was my written lifeline and measure of everything I did.
As a late bloomer, I pretty much swallowed all the 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 always brimming with appointments. In an attempt to feel even more virtuously busy, I often tried to shoehorn in one more daily calendar event. Pipe dream, pipe dream! Saved by the lack of space…
A quick look at my filled and written calendar evoked a sense of “I’m on the right path, proving my worth.” To whom? Them! The external gods of appropriate work-life worthiness. Our culture. A model of our culture’s work-life ethos can be found in this universal greeting between people:“Hey. How are you? Have you been busy?”
But there was an emerging problem which flummoxed me. When looking at my calendar for the next day, I’d feel incredibly anxious, squeezed, even. Almost as if I couldn’t breathe. Huh? I was on the right path, wasn’t I, at least according to the worthy measure of my jam-packed calendar?
I ignored those uncomfortable feelings. I had no idea how to place them in the constellation of my still-limited experience of being (well, mostly) an adult.
And I continued to ignore my discordant reactions to the brimming calendar. Wasn’t I doing right by our cultural expectations? Seemed so.
Then one day, I found it incredibly difficult to get out of bed. All-I-wanted-was-to-sleep. Period. Voila, a stubborn case of walking pneumonia paid me a visit.
Oh, great! Thanks, universe, for dropping this not-so-subtle hint that, perhaps, my life wasn’t as copacetic as I thought. A life reframe was desperately needed. And that reframe took the form of thanking the universe (truly) for offering me a much-needed opportunity to stop and listen inwardly. So I did. And have continued to listen and listen ever since.
Remembered fragments of those early internal conversations…
You, Jan, are not a a person who thrives on speediness, the hyper buzz, buzz, of your 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. Let’s face it, my dear, a speedy life overrides your particular natural creative rhythms. Oh.
So, wait, how do I figure out what my natural speed is? The organic speed that nurtures my life rather than empties me of creative energy? Ah. Keep listening to your body’s cues of “yes to this,” “no to that” or “I can’t tell at the moment.” You may find yourself out of step with busyness norms, but you’ll be in step with your own growing wholeness. Find the speed that nurtures you. It’s worth it.
And it has been.
Replete with a sense of humor and living into the challenges of being human. Share a dose of “This Being Human Thing” with others.