Have you ever had times in your life when you feel like you need to hit the button and stop? I’m not talking about a pause here; I’m talking about letting the machine go cold.
Even before my vacation with the kids two weeks ago, I had an incredible urge to disengage from everything that wasn’t outright essential so that I could unbusy/undistract myself enough to really
look into my frenzied activity
to assess its causes
weigh its benefits
cut through the confusion
Last year at this time, my world flipped so completely the dizziness made me sick. Though I continue to live with tremendous upheaval, the quality of that movement, that unpredictability, doesn’t so much seem an oppression now as an opportunity.
After a year of hell, I’m feeling grounded.
And yet everything is up for examination.
I’m asking large life questions and yearning to answer them mindfully, heartfully, rather than relying on habits, assumptions or have-tos. In essence, I’m forcing the rules I live by — those that don’t impact family, health and economic survival — onto a high shelf.
After two years of writing daily, I’ve stopped that practice to ask: Am I a writer anymore? Do I want this creative identity that has brought such joy, anguish, satisfaction and self-doubt?
Do I need to be a member of professional and religious organizations? Do they enrich my life?
Do I need to answer every phone call, email, or even turn on my home computer? Are these activities bringing something meaningful into my life?
Is Facebook necessary to my sense of wellbeing and connectedness?
If I want to explore new options, why am I clinging onto old ones?
If I want to dance, why am I not dancing?
I don’t have answers to the questions yet, but I’m determined to listen carefully enough to see if those answers exist.
I have two questions for you today:
- Have you ever experienced a similar reboot?
- How, if you work full time and have full-time obligations, have you managed to effectively do it?