It’s been a long and arduous journey for him, for us, for me these past couple of years. And my mom’s needs continue to grow. We don’t know how long the journey ahead will be. We only know that love calls us to journey onward.
I miss him terribly. And I’m tired.
Lately, my throat aches with sadness and exhaustion.
Yesterday, my greatest wish was to feel vitality again. To want to go for a walk instead of dragging myself out for one. To want to greet the world and be a shiny presence that connects and inspires and heals. But I didn't feel very shiny.
And so, I let go of driving myself and shifted to allowing myself.
I did what absolutely had to be done, and then I focused on nourishment.
I read. I napped. I baked a chicken for myself and my love. I poured myself a splash of hearty red wine in a handmade earthen vessel. I put together a little plate of stinky cheese and healthy crackers and salty olives. I started a good novel. I sipped and savored while the chicken baked. I watched a little baseball and went easy on the boys when they lost. And I tucked myself in with my sweetheart at 9pm.
This morning, I woke at 4:15. I stayed tucked in the cocoon of my comforter and read essays written by that gloriously imperfect human, Anne Lamott. For hours. Then I soaked in the hot tub and showered. Then I made a cup of tea and meditated. Then I fed myself a plate of simple, fresh food.
Serious nourishment, all before 9am.
(Note: Sometimes nourishment looks like sleeping ‘til 10).
Except lately. I’ve been avoiding it because I have felt so utterly spent that "passion" felt like a long forgotten vacation. “Passion First” used to feel like permission to pursue my passion before any of my other work. Lately, has been feeling like a task master. A “should” that I could never attain.
This morning’s guided meditation was on compassion. As I allowed my busy brain to empty, it slowly dawned on me that my cup has run dry.
And the only way to refill my cup of passion is to pour a splash of hearty (com)passion into this earthen vessel and lift it to my own parched lips. Sip by tiny sip.
That's what I started to do yesterday. And so, just a few hours later, I find myself writing a love letter to you, my beautiful tribe, to share a tiny sip of (com)passion with you too.
Perhaps you are juggling many things that seem to be taking you away from your true passion. Perhaps you are still working hard in the land of “Not Yet” as you envision the life and work you really want. But “not yet” is still requiring a LOT of energy.
It’s enough to dry your creative juices right up.
The antidote? Self (com)passion.
Give yourself permission, Dearheart.
What is one gift of compassion you can pour into your own earthen cup today?
Do that. Lift it to your own precious lips and drink. And let us know about it in the comments below.
Much, much love,
P.S. My throat doesn't ache so much anymore.