Rest

"We are the authors of our lives. We write our own daring endings.." Brenne Brown

My own story, that I tell myself, because we all have them, is that I get things done. I do things. I go, and go and go some more. I look and see what’s been done, plan for the next thing, accomplish that, aim for this, sometimes hit the mark, sometimes not so much. My relationships tend to evolve around my doing; that fence, that yard work, that new degree, that lesson, that job, that show...that next thing I’ve marked for getting done.

Resting, therefore is not a thing I do well. It messes with my idea of me. Resting to me is going back to bed till 7am on a weekend day after feeding critters at 6am. Spending a few hours surfing FB or reading a book must, by necessity, be followed by an avalanche of busy because things must get done. There are things to do.

This month though, by necessity, I am resting. I cannot even push the envelope on that because my body literally won’t allow it. Brief bursts of energy are followed by the insatiable need to close my eyes. I cannot will it to be different. It is the now, and the now apparently includes three naps a day. Healing, post surgery is energy sucking stuff. What to do then with the restlessness and feel of rest when the identity of me is NOT rest?

"We can’t rise strong when we’re on the run." Brenne Brown

The answer appears to be that I can use this time to reconsider, revitalize, reconnect, rekindle, reevaluate, revise, reinvigorate and restore my reality, because I’ve been given the opportunity to do just that and not doing so would be a greater tragedy than wallowing in what cannot be done anyway.

So. Permission granted to read, write, relate, rest and wonder at the state of this life while the opportunity exists. Sooner than not it will be time to run again; best that the body and spirit be made capable for that purpose.

See you in the barn aisle.