I relate to every word of this, and your thoughts bolster my determination to hold onto this cloistered life, even as it becomes safer to venture out. It feels like The World is already digging claws into my front door, claws of friendly invites I'm simply not ready to accept. How to stay quiet and tucked in, but still loving and kind and responsive to others? There must be a way, and your rainbow two-seater table seems like the symbol for this way of life ... open but smaller?
Claws of friendly invites. This table as a symbol. YES, Trista. I love everything you have said here. And I feel so grateful to know you're in a similar place. If enough of us are true to ourselves, and share our feelings openly about what we want to keep and what expectations we need to let go, maybe we can stay connected and kind and loving but also tucked in. I love that image. I feel like that's what I want my life to look like.
I'd like to think that even in our excitement to get back out there in the world, that we will emerge slowly, adding on to our plate bits and pieces, and not all at once. I would be overwhelmed easily, I think, and hope I can hold on to some of this quiet and slower pacing. (I mean, somehow it's also fast paced, but differently. Lots to do, but not running around town to do it.)
Yes, I love this! We don't have to cram everything onto our plates--or start juggling two or more plates--like the old days. I feel like this kind of busy is a more fulfilling, rewarding kind than the old one. I am nowhere near as stressed and panicky as I used to be and that's something I really want to hold on to.
Thank you, Dawn! Boundaries as part of a beautiful space makes so much sense, now that you say it that way. A garden with rocks around the edges comes to mind. I've always thought of boundaries as tough, difficult things, but when you put beauty and boundaries in the same sentence, it opened this new way of thinking about them. Thank you!
That table is so you! All of the substance and functionality popping with color and energy. xo And again, hearty congratulations on your publication news.
Thank you so much for all your support! We had our first dinner guest last night and seeing her sit at the table and enjoy our hospitality was the best.
I love this post (and your new table!). As a person who’s been committed to a relatively unbusy life for some time I’m so happy to hear that you and so many others aren’t just jumping back in to the rush. I’m hoping we can all slow down. For real. For good.
I've loved your pacing--particularly the photos and observations and words that have come out of being so thoughtful in recent years. It's incredible that those artistic gifts have manifested in the quiet you've curated for yourself. So inspiring. I'd love to hear more sometime about how you made this decision.
I think there’s probably an essay for me in there somewhere. I think it’s my natural disposition. I’ve often assumed people who are busier/more social are naturally that way. It was interesting to hear that there’s more anxiety in it for you than I knew. Your openness about that is a real gift.
I have spent my life trying to be useful to others, and that led to adding more social obligations over the years. Some of it was probably driven by the deep knowledge that my brain worked differently than other people's. I tried to exceed expectations so nobody noticed I was different but I'm sure my overcommitment made me seem different, anyway. So many decades (!) lost to not understanding myself. I just don't have the energy or the emotional bandwidth anymore. I am so happy at home at my little table.
I loved this article so much. I've been feeling hesitant about full emergence, too, and I also want to remember and live the important lessons this last year has shown me. One of them is reaching out to beloveds and checking in. Another is slowing down and savoring life. Congratulations on your book AND your happy table :) I look forward to seeing both!
Slowing down and savoring and checking in with friends. Yes! This time has been a remarkable reset and I want to keep those pieces that you mention here. Instead of filling my days back up with too much. I love so deeply, and so many, but I can't do everything or be everywhere anymore. I am thinking about going to PNBA this fall, in person, because I miss everyone so much, but I have no idea how I'll muster the energy to stand at my table for two days and talk to everyone. I love that rush of seeing friends and people I admire, but I can't wear myself out and get sick like I used to.
Hahaha! I too feel more rock-like, Camille. That's a great metaphor. I'm reading a dragon book series with my youngest and some of the dragons love mud and being immersed in the earth. Your note makes me think about how whatever the stage, maybe we can work on being present right where we are, if not also enjoying the sensation. Dried mud has its charms, right?!
I relate to every word of this, and your thoughts bolster my determination to hold onto this cloistered life, even as it becomes safer to venture out. It feels like The World is already digging claws into my front door, claws of friendly invites I'm simply not ready to accept. How to stay quiet and tucked in, but still loving and kind and responsive to others? There must be a way, and your rainbow two-seater table seems like the symbol for this way of life ... open but smaller?
Claws of friendly invites. This table as a symbol. YES, Trista. I love everything you have said here. And I feel so grateful to know you're in a similar place. If enough of us are true to ourselves, and share our feelings openly about what we want to keep and what expectations we need to let go, maybe we can stay connected and kind and loving but also tucked in. I love that image. I feel like that's what I want my life to look like.
I'd like to think that even in our excitement to get back out there in the world, that we will emerge slowly, adding on to our plate bits and pieces, and not all at once. I would be overwhelmed easily, I think, and hope I can hold on to some of this quiet and slower pacing. (I mean, somehow it's also fast paced, but differently. Lots to do, but not running around town to do it.)
Yes, I love this! We don't have to cram everything onto our plates--or start juggling two or more plates--like the old days. I feel like this kind of busy is a more fulfilling, rewarding kind than the old one. I am nowhere near as stressed and panicky as I used to be and that's something I really want to hold on to.
that table is a perfect fit, laura. it's so full of hope and joy. as are your words. thank you xo and many congratulations!
Mary, thank you! I appreciate you so much.
Thank you, Laura. This is such a beautiful space ... of words, and friendship...boundaries and invitation.
Thank you, Dawn! Boundaries as part of a beautiful space makes so much sense, now that you say it that way. A garden with rocks around the edges comes to mind. I've always thought of boundaries as tough, difficult things, but when you put beauty and boundaries in the same sentence, it opened this new way of thinking about them. Thank you!
That table is so you! All of the substance and functionality popping with color and energy. xo And again, hearty congratulations on your publication news.
Thank you so much for all your support! We had our first dinner guest last night and seeing her sit at the table and enjoy our hospitality was the best.
I love this post (and your new table!). As a person who’s been committed to a relatively unbusy life for some time I’m so happy to hear that you and so many others aren’t just jumping back in to the rush. I’m hoping we can all slow down. For real. For good.
I've loved your pacing--particularly the photos and observations and words that have come out of being so thoughtful in recent years. It's incredible that those artistic gifts have manifested in the quiet you've curated for yourself. So inspiring. I'd love to hear more sometime about how you made this decision.
I think there’s probably an essay for me in there somewhere. I think it’s my natural disposition. I’ve often assumed people who are busier/more social are naturally that way. It was interesting to hear that there’s more anxiety in it for you than I knew. Your openness about that is a real gift.
I have spent my life trying to be useful to others, and that led to adding more social obligations over the years. Some of it was probably driven by the deep knowledge that my brain worked differently than other people's. I tried to exceed expectations so nobody noticed I was different but I'm sure my overcommitment made me seem different, anyway. So many decades (!) lost to not understanding myself. I just don't have the energy or the emotional bandwidth anymore. I am so happy at home at my little table.
I loved this article so much. I've been feeling hesitant about full emergence, too, and I also want to remember and live the important lessons this last year has shown me. One of them is reaching out to beloveds and checking in. Another is slowing down and savoring life. Congratulations on your book AND your happy table :) I look forward to seeing both!
Slowing down and savoring and checking in with friends. Yes! This time has been a remarkable reset and I want to keep those pieces that you mention here. Instead of filling my days back up with too much. I love so deeply, and so many, but I can't do everything or be everywhere anymore. I am thinking about going to PNBA this fall, in person, because I miss everyone so much, but I have no idea how I'll muster the energy to stand at my table for two days and talk to everyone. I love that rush of seeing friends and people I admire, but I can't wear myself out and get sick like I used to.
How beautifully you have reflected our feelings, our hesitation to emerge. I don’t feel like a butterfly—rather a rock stuck in dried mud.
Hahaha! I too feel more rock-like, Camille. That's a great metaphor. I'm reading a dragon book series with my youngest and some of the dragons love mud and being immersed in the earth. Your note makes me think about how whatever the stage, maybe we can work on being present right where we are, if not also enjoying the sensation. Dried mud has its charms, right?!
This is wonderful, Laura.
You are hereby invited to come for tea or coffee and conversation anytime!
Yes! Soon! What a lovely destination for emerging from my cocoon.