𝑨 π‘ͺπ’“π’π’˜π’… 𝒐𝒇 𝑢𝒏𝒆

Time alone. Cherished time alone. It’s every mama’s secret desire (at least the mamas I know.) Even now that my kids are grown, I still find a craving for time alone.

Yet, when I have it, and I have ample opportunity these days, I seem to rush to fill that time. There’s a slightly panicked air around it.

When I think about the last time I was truly alone, I remember mentally ticking off all the things I could be doing, tasks I could be completing, work I could be catching up on, correspondence that needed writing.

Yet, I didn’t feel like doing any of that. I felt like finishing my book about the little book van in Scotland, I felt like watching the clouds roll by from my Aidirondack chair on the deck. I felt like napping under the fuzzy blanket with the goofy foot pockets that I adore.

But, my head was so crowded! There was more noise up there than a Black Friday at Walmart. What’s with all that commotion? How do you leave behind your own mind?

You don’t. You quit resisting it. You invite it in.

Fine. Fine. Fine. I will sit and hear all its complaints and β€œshoulds” and judgments and worries. I will let it exhaust itself, which surprisingly doesn’t take long once you quit pushing it away.

And as I listened, I saw I had empathy for this crowd of thoughts. I was not surprised by what I heard. (I kinda know this story.) And things quieted down. Settled. Satisfied. I could now see them as sentences in my mind.

Believe them. Or don’t believe them.

Or just finish my book…..in peace. π‘†π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘Ž π‘ƒβ„Žπ‘’π‘›π‘›π‘–π‘›π‘” 𝑖𝑠 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ πΏπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘ π΄π‘ π‘ π‘œπ‘π‘–π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’ π‘Žπ‘‘ π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ π»π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘€π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘†π‘‘π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘’: π‘‡π‘œπ‘œπ‘™π‘  π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ 𝐴𝑛 π΄π‘šπ‘Žπ‘§π‘–π‘›π‘” 𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑒, π‘Ž πΆπ‘’π‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘–π‘“π‘–π‘’π‘‘ 𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑒 π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘Šπ‘’π‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘ πΆπ‘œπ‘Žπ‘β„Ž. π‘†β„Žπ‘’β€™π‘  π‘π‘Žπ‘ π‘ π‘–π‘œπ‘›π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’ π‘Žπ‘π‘œπ‘’π‘‘ π‘‘π‘’π‘Žπ‘β„Žπ‘–π‘›π‘” π‘€π‘œπ‘šπ‘’π‘› π‘‘π‘œ π‘™π‘œπ‘ π‘’ 50 π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘šπ‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘π‘œπ‘’π‘›π‘‘π‘ β€¦.π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘šπ‘Žπ‘›π‘’π‘›π‘‘π‘™π‘¦. π‘π‘œ π‘šπ‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘“π‘œπ‘œπ‘‘ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘šπ‘Ž. π‘π‘œ π‘šπ‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘”π‘”π‘™π‘’.