Adopt the pace of nature; her secret is patience.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
My dear friend Tiffany pointed out to me the breakneck pace I’ve been sprinting at this year. In the span of a calendar year I traipsed about Vienna, Austria, officiated a wedding in Arizona, stood by Tiffany’s side in North Carolina, made countless trips to Maryland to spend time with my niece and nephew, spent many a Saturday jumping into the pool with another niece, attended baby showers, birthday parties, and sporting events, all while starting a podcast, doubling my freelance income, applying for a mortgage, and generally ensuring that my physical and mental wellbeing were being maintained or improved. As I look at my calendar there are weddings and parties and yoga classes—and, newly declared, rest.
To say that I am feeling the burnout that comes with attempting to maintain this pace of life would be an understatement, and misses the mark a bit. The reality is that it didn’t even occur to me—until my body forced me to consider—that there was another way! In fact, the life that I dream of, a little bit witchy, a little bit New England autumn, and lots of writing, and reading, and pots of tea, is slow.
As it became less enjoyable to look at my planner, my body constantly fatigued despite the amount of rest I was throwing at it, I’ve realized that there is a misalignment with how I am choosing to spend my time now and the life I am manifesting for the future. Talk about discomfort, with your body running one way and your brain daydreaming of floating in the opposite direction, no wonder I’ve been so tired.
As I work my way through October obligations, I have an eye on more mornings wrapped up in my robe and cup of tea typing out a story, more twilights spent walking the neighborhood decompressing from a day well spent toiling at tasks that fill my cup, and basic weekends making food, watching football, and reading books.
By My Pen 