identity

Alone time is for Extroverts too

Devona 0 Comments

A few weeks ago, just before Mother’s Day, Rob took the girls into work to do some computer programming for the Signal Conference Lemonade Stand. I know. That sounds amazing. And it was on a Saturday, which meant that I had nothing else planned for the day and could join in the fun. I’d probably learn something on top of hanging out with my favorite people on the planet.

But I also wanted to be alone. Kind of. Sort of. In my heart I knew I had been doing too much lately. How do I decide between doing fun stuff with my favorite people and doing fun stuff alone? Or heck, doing nothing at all alone?

Rob solved the problem by telling me to stay home. “There’s no reason you need to come, so don’t.”

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So I stayed home and it was awesome. I went on a run. I read. I knitted some. I caught up on some work and did some wonderful planning. I loved it. And then everyone came back and I didn’t feel like I missed out on anything.

So what did I learn? This mega-extrovert needs the people who live with me to lovingly tell me not to come sometimes. Super Extroverts like me are slaves to our own fear that something amazing is going to happen without us. Being a homeschooling mom means that I don’t even have those moments in my routine where I’m by myself by default because the kids are in school all day. These people are awesome, but these awesome people are ALWAYS with me. But we extroverts need our down time to recharge, just like introverts. I have an interior life which I continually neglect because I just love being around other people so much. I have to stop doing that, and I suspect your favorite extrovert does too. I’m on a mission to find time for me, every week and in the daylight. I think I can do it, and I probably won’t miss out on too much fun either.

More Than a List

Devona 0 Comments

Every morning 9am comes. It rounds the globe with the sun perched just above the roof on your eastern neighbors’ house. You can count on this daily event. But sometimes 9am comes as a surprise as you suddenly remember that you are supposed to be at a classroom thirty minutes away with three dressed humans in your company. This discovery will be a frantic experience if you are currently sitting on the couch eating an apple in your pajamas with your three humans still in bed.

If you value emotional balance the sudden discovery that you are late is about as stabilizing as an earthquake.

Sit down with your journal in the morning. Learn to love the list. Don’t be tempted to believe that list making is something that Type A people do to maintain control.

See my list below which lists theList things a list is:

    • a meditation on your day.
    • a creative expression of your expected future.
    • a prayer for gratitude for everything that happens which you are able to acknowledge with a simple check mark.
    • a prayer of supplication for the energy to do the things you haven’t yet check-marked.

There is no guilt in an unfinished list. Life happened to you today and your plan said, “I’m right here on this list. You’ll get back to me as soon as you have a moment’s peace.”

Bond with your list. Give it a doodle, a sketch or a poem to keep it company. Let it know that you don’t find it mundane. It is the sacred documentation of your most valued tasks– this work of yours. The glorious minutes of the names of your friends, your valuable meetings, your unique vocation and place on this Earth. Sit with it. Meditate on it. Let it live on paper and outside of your brain so that your brain can be free to engage with this singular moment. To give every happening its due time.

Coffee with an Oak

Devona 1 Comment

Each morning I share a cup of coffee in silence with an ancient oak tree which I can see from my great front window. After we moved into this home I didn’t have a designated place to sit with my cup of coffee so I would linger in my bed much longer than is healthy for I am slow to start before 8am. But once I found my cozy corner of the couch to sit on and establish that the day had indeed begun, I now wipe the sleep from my eyes in my proper place.

Meeting my friend the tree took a bit longer to discover. A couch is an obvious observation because you put a couch where it is. A tree is just part of the background scene until it notices you and chooses to make contact. I can’t remember the first morning that my friend saluted me, a large mass of bare tangled branches without even one leaf. I never noticed him before the autumn leaf drop, which happens in late November in Pleasant Hill, California. In Ohio we would be shoveling ourselves out of a blizzard, in California we rake up leaf-jumping piles.

But from this morning in late January, I know that my coffee date the enormous oak and I have been growing quite fond of each other. As the pillowcase creases fade from my cheeks, the tree sways just slightly on top of its grassy hill. It matters not that my neighbor’s roof divides us like a too-large cafe table. There is no bustling Starbucks ambiance to interrupt our conversation. “Good morning, tree. How was your evening?”

“Oh, much the same. Not much changes for me here. It is nice to see the sun rising over Mount Diablo again.”

“I’m sure it is! What a lovely vantage point you must have from your clearing on the hill.”

“Oh, yes. I can see things the way they are from up here. Today will be a gift. I can see it.”

“You’re right, today is a gift. Well, I have to go unload the dishwasher. See you tomorrow.”

It’s comforting to have a friend who has been here much longer than our family. Perhaps even longer than this house. Especially to have a friend with such a calm demeanor, slowly growing into whatever tangled shape he deems most lovely with no consideration for current trends or norms. This friend isn’t here to achieve something, isn’t here to prove something, isn’t even here to notice if anyone else is achieving or proving. This friend has merely come to be, and being is as much a means as it is an end for this wise coffee date of mine. And although I still have achievements hoped for on this day, and I still suffer from feeling I have something to prove, tomorrow morning my friend the oak is just expecting me to to be here on my couch with my cup of coffee, ready to be for another day.