the present/ is a feather/ on loan from the wings of time/ that only attention/ makes beautiful/ and only kindness/ valuable.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationship to time (and work and rest), so when I read those lines from Maria Popova’s bird divination cards a few days ago, they felt like they were meant for me. I’ve been getting her newsletter for years and only rarely open it anymore. That I even clicked through to see the words had that divine timing feel (speaking of time again).
With sports, I’m diligent about taking one day of complete rest per week and balancing my workouts within the week. Where I’m not so attentive is when it comes to my work-rest balance. I am about to go away for five weeks. To spend time with family and friends. And alone. Usually work comes with me, anywhere I go. This time it is not. This will be downtime. I’ll be doing things I love, which fill my cup. Reading novels. Writing. Running. Hiking. Cycling. A meditation retreat. I can’t remember when I last took this kind of work-free time for myself. Part of me thinks, I’m not successful enough to take this kind of time.
My trip, as it turns out, is coming at either the perfect time, or exactly the wrong time. The planning happened months ago, before I knew that my work would be in quite the state of transition it is (good and much needed changes, yet …). My plate is not as full as I’d like. I’m not a person with a full-time job and salary. I don’t have a long waiting list of potential clients. That’s good, in terms of making it easier to get away. And not good, in terms of I don’t know what September will look like workwise when I get back. What if none of the seeds I’ve planted take root and I come home to nothing?
This choice feels reckless and scary. I am going anyway, stepping back from the hustle. Not getting paid. Fear will board the plane alongside me.
And what a waste it will be if Fear rides along the whole time, leaching the joy out of my days and agitating my rest. Can I allow myself this period of resourcing and renewal, without getting sucked into a vortex of self-doubt? Or worse, the spiraling worry of how I will be judged? I can’t bring myself to write out the verdicts I imagine.
Still, I’m going. How will Fear and I spend this feather of time?
I’m counseling myself to be in the moment. In practice I find the present moment extremely hard to be fully inside of. Encumbered as it is by my past baggage and future plans.
This is my gentle challenge to myself: Can I quiet Fear and heighten my attention to the feather? Make each present moment while I’m away more beautiful. A respite from pushing and chasing. Should-free.
Can I find that kindness the poem mentions and offer it to myself?
