I love to be left alone.
Time to process. To think without interruption. These are precious gifts.
I love my family and friends, and I’m always inspired by how beautifully unique people can be with their varied personalities and idiosyncrasies, hair colour, skin tones, eyes of every shade, Myers-Briggs profiles, embarrassing moments, fraught relationships, life goals, dreams that soar and dip, fall or fly. People are the colour and spark of life. They are the very letters and words of Stories for Humans.
And yet I love to be alone, also.
Fridays are for Creating and if I cannot carve out time and space, then I do not create. Even a small thing like posting a photo of yellow tulips on Instagram, like I did this morning, is a creative win that fuels me, making time stand still for that moment. Creativity marks the passage of time with stamps of wonder and colour, while the rest of life streaks by in a grey blur.
Finding ways to create, big and small, through this different year where I chug through life like a little toy train rather than a barreling steam engine has been one of the most healing things. Carving out the time has been the hardest part. Leaving other work that needs doing, or setting aside the odd feeling of taking time is getting easier. Writing, thinking, imagining, making, even doodling is a healing balm to a fried, sun-burned soul. The twisting that occurs from years, decades of turning oneself to fit spaces or people who don’t understand will take time to unwind. But oh, the relief of coming out of cramped boxes and stifling rooms to feel and speak and write truer things! And I feel that even truer words are coming.
Artists begin with a blank canvas.
Empty space and time invites filling, but hurried, chaotic living crowds out the beauty of art.
When I fill my days to the brim I am thirsty, because no water is able to get through to the skin.
I once thought having margin was lazy.
Believed fervently that taking time was idle.
Not saying “yes” was sinful.
Setting boundaries was callous.
These days I am blessed. I know it’s naturally a less busy time of life, and I also understand that I can embrace it or push it away. Even though it’s easier in many ways – I’m not waking up with small children, or staying up till all hours waiting for teenagers, or making lunches and driving to all the things – it’s also easy to fill one’s days chock full at any stage. The difference is intention, and attention.
Even on my busiest days as a young mom, a teacher, a worship leader, a piano and voice instructor, I made choices. I chose to say yes to that meeting, that conversation after school, that late student, that perfect lesson plan. It was so easy to live without margin, until it wasn’t.
The signs of burnout include apathy, lack of creativity, a foggy mind, sleeplessness, a heavy heart, an inability to plan, forgetfulness, misplaced anger. And so I’m incredibly grateful that ideas are coming, plans forming, mind growing, heart lifting, peace blossoming. These signs of life are as welcome as the Spring crocuses through snow-scattered ground. It gives me hope to keep trying, even on the days when nothing goes right. Little fairy lights….sprigs of green…glints of sun.
Fridays are for Creating.
Not quite yet – I keep crowding it out still with work that seems more “worthy”, leaving it to the last minute when I’m tired already, putting it at the end of the To-Do List. Carving out time means making room, taking other things out so creativity can exist. And maybe it’s just the longer days or the hopeful sun or the bluer sky, but I feel like strength is returning to these hollowed-out bones.
Stories for Humans 