Oh what a week.
In town, out of town, with the kids, at work. One of those weeks. And a week of good moments and quiet moments and frenetic moments and not enough sleep.
Ever have a time like that? Of course you have. We all do.
I can’t remember to whom I was talking earlier this week (of course!) but someone pointed out how it’s an American dilemma to be so over-programmed and running fast. My lovely Irish friend Catherine began her career at 22 with 6 weeks paid vacation. It grows from there as you gain seniority.
What do we have? A measly week or two over the course of a year?
No wonder we’re so stressed out and tired.
In my travels, I picked up some of the glossy women’s magazines that I never read. Along with the requisite articles about dealing with your wattle and arm flab, and having great sex at every age, and the clothes you wear, and your kids, there was stuff about how much sleep we really need.
It struck me as strange that we need to ask someone else how much sleep is enough.
Do we need research on that? Or are we just so far removed from a good night’s sleep that we need insight from outside of ourselves?
Today I let my kids sleep in a bit because I knew they needed it. No worries. Called in the tardy arrival to school and excused it and they were a little more eager and calm when I dropped them off than on our 8:05 am open-door days.
I still woke early and made the lunches. At least I meditated first. Today is the day I take my staff to lunchtime yoga. Thank God. It’s a day like this that restarts and rejuvenates so life becomes livable again.
It is no wonder to me that this morning, those familiar and thankfully distant qualms about money woes surfaced. Why wouldn’t they? When I am out of sorts, nothing flows.
When I am in flow with myself, life is easy. Good. The way it should be. And my perspective is clear.
We don’t need experts and research showing us what to do. We already know.
The big challenge is listening to the little voice inside. The competing ones usually drown out what’s important.
On the way to work, I noticed how much like angel wings the clouds looked. And not just the normal feathery fluffiness. There was a dark gray cloud that formed two wings on the back of a long linear white one. Totally an angel. As clear as day.
I sighed audibly in my car and then aloud asked for guidance from the heavens to calm my mind and sweeten my soul.
The next song on the radio talked about getting out of my own way and everything is going to be fine. I’m not kidding. The answers are there, if only we can still ourselves long enough to listen.