I am staring groggily at the screen wondering why I am so very tired this morning. My brain is sludge, my body is sluggish. There are things I need to do, but the energy and motivation quotas seem lower than they need to be.
So why, you may ask, am I writing a blog post?
Well, it’s an attempt to get the juices flowing. Jump start without having to attach leads to my uncooperative brain. And as most of my tasks involve some kind of writing, even if only the dribbery-drabbery of various emails or crafting a sentence for clarity, it seems worth a try. Like stretching before going for a run. It’s a lot less painful if you’ve done some work on preparing your muscles first.
I pray – oh, how little I pray, especially in comparison to the bible’s call to ‘pray without ceasing’! I pray that I may ditch the unnecessary and unhelpful expectations that hamper rather than help. Isn’t it ironic that the very worries and perfectionism that chitter-chatter about the need to do well are the very things that suffocate you? That steal your potential?
I realise I work best from a place of a peace. I’m challenged that I need to give myself time to inhabit this peace in order to be productive. So often I feel I need to get going immediately, however I’m feeling. That I should address my agitations by getting more agitated. Those things I claim to be my priorities often get swept away by everything else. One wonders if I can validly claim them my priorities at all (this is something I harp on about in Forgetful Heart).
Does my life reflect my apparent belief system? Or do I allow that system to exist only on the surface? Does it have any kind of deep impact?
I realise I live so much of life feeling guilty about not doing things that are actually not that important. I read this morning: My yoke is easy, my burden is light.
How often do I superimpose other, unhelpful burdens instead of the lightness of that of my Saviour.
I appear to be giving myself a talking to in my own blog post. I started on the surface – my slugly-sludge. And now I find myself in a place where I ponder my lifestyle – my character, even.
If I let myself write – without hampering myself with goals and expectations, this often happens.
If I let myself.
I need to work on giving myself permission.