I'm on the verge of bursting into tears. All week long I've been achey, groggy, rundown and forced to take it easy, which sucks when inside I'm inspired and chomping at the bit to take action
I have soooo much I want to get cranking on, yet physically I feel like crap. Pushing myself hard at this point would not be good self-care. And lounging on the couch watching old movies or reading does not appeal one single teeny tiny bit. I'm not that worn out.
So, I wonder, is there a place in the middle, possibly scooching towards the couch-lounging side, I can dwell? Ahhhh, right. Yes. The middle. I remember the middle And then:
•I remember to exhale
•I remember it's possible to sit here and just write at a gentle pace . . . relaxing my expectations as to quality, output, brilliant insights, etc.
•I remember poet William Stafford's famous advice to lower our standards
Relaxing, energetically and creatively, while still moving softly, gently, slowly.
TODAY I let go of creative ambitiousness. I remember there exists a wide juicy middle between the polar opposites I tend to focus on (i.e., Couch Potato vs. Superwoman in Flight). I choose gentle encouragement. I allow myself to meander and soak up the warmth of the sun.