
Time alone. Cherished time alone. Itβs every mamaβs 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. Thereβs 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 didnβt 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. Whatβs with all that commotion? How do you leave behind your own mind?
You donβt. You quit resisting it. You invite it in.
Fine. Fine. Fine. I will sit and hear all its complaints and βshouldsβ and judgments and worries. I will let it exhaust itself, which surprisingly doesnβt 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 donβt believe them.
Or just finish my bookβ¦..in peace.
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