A morning with intention should feel like a sip of something special, but instead, it often turns into a frantic scavenger hunt for lost objects, unfinished tasks, and forgotten identities. You underline so brilliantly the comedy of errors that is modern “me time”, and the deeper, quieter tragedy of internalised urgency. Even in solitude, we are surveilled by the part of ourselves that needs proof we’re being “good”, “productive”, “worthy”.
What if the real issue isn’t our reflex to do, but our fear of being forgotten when we don’t? We respond to our to-do lists, we fear we’ll disappear without them. Rest, then, becomes an act of self-care, but mostly an act of existential daring. It’s choosing to exist without explanation.
And maybe we need less commitment to “trying again tomorrow”, and more permission to fail gloriously today. To let the morning unravel, to eat breakfast at noon, to sit with ink-stained fingers and know they have touched something real, even if it wasn’t on the list.
I fully support the inkwell renaissance too. May the messiest pleasures always win.
"...our fear of being forgotten when we don't?" Wow, what a shift that evokes, Tamara. Thank you. Reminds me also that we are all forgotten eventually, which is an invitation to relieve ourselves of the burden of our "specialness," that we are everything and nothing.
I was about to highlight the same phrase and make a similar comment when I saw this. I think it also dovetails with Suleika's reminder to herself that she only she judges herself by her output.
I discovered the habit of going outside as soon as I wake up. I read that daylight energizes our bodies as much as caffeine, and I find that I can more readily “just be” when I am outside (away from all the chores). I putter around the garden, sometimes pulling weeds, but more often just gazing at whatever is growing or blooming. At some point, I set a timer for 20 minutes and sit on a bench, or lean against a tree, and try to let go of all passing thoughts except the loveliness of my creator. (I highly recommend this odd practice of tree leaning! I discovered by accident that trees impart wisdom and sense of ease). Usually, after this hour of solitude, I am bursting with inspiration to write something profound, or make a plan to bless someone, or just make the bed and tidy up.
"What if the real issue isn’t our reflex to do, but our fear of being forgotten when we don’t?" Mic. Drop! This phrase stopped me in my tracks when I read it. How profound.
While writing my response, I took a moment to close my eyes, to feel inward, and one of the first things I thought about was working through the to-do list, and then immediately thought, "No! That is not the point!" I couldn't believe how quickly that became the priority, when the prompt specifically asked us to write about doing something just for us. Thank you for the beautiful response Tamara. I love the images you evoke. I'm taking "it's choosing to exist without explanation" with me today.
That’s the sneaky part, isn’t it? How the to-do list slips back in like a Trojan horse, even when the drawbridge is firmly up. It’s identity dressed in sensible shoes. You close your eyes to feel inward, and suddenly there’s the mental Post-it note reminding you to buy toothpaste or finally answer that email flagged “urgent” three days ago.
I think our minds have become efficiency machines that now malfunction in silence. But that moment you had, catching yourself in the act of auto-doing? That is awareness. That is a crack in the spell. And that’s where the real magic starts, not in perfect stillness, of course not, but in noticing the interruption and choosing, again, not to obey it.
So let’s keep choosing, I say to myself every day. To be. To pause. To make space without needing to justify the architecture of it. And perhaps to write “daydream” at the top of the to-do list, and check it off in full.
Suleika, that image—of you waist-deep, holding Lentil in the water like a question, like a kiss—lodged itself in me. Not just tender, but almost mythic. A gesture both ordinary & exquisite. It wasn’t the shriek of a morning derailed, but a soft haunting: Will you stay anyway? Even if the hour unravels? And Allegra, I can feel the chill of your steering wheel at 5:15am, the sky still navy, your breath a small fog against the glass. The reading light curled around your neck like a halo of intention. There’s something devotional in that discipline. Monastic, almost.
If I had an hour, I wouldn’t seize it—I’d seduce it. I’d brew tea so strong it could stain a tooth, drink it barefoot on the cold floor. I’d wear my oldest jumper, the one with the stretched-out cuffs I chew when I think. I wouldn’t reach for the perfect pen. I’d reach for the one that bleeds. Maybe I’d write. Maybe I’d lie down beside the open window & let the morning air press its damp mouth against my skin. I’d let the light move across the room without trying to capture it. No fixing. No improving. Just this: one woman, slightly undone, entirely present.
And perhaps that’s the lesson nestled inside both your hours—that time doesn’t need to be held tightly to matter. It can spill a little. Smudge a little. We begin again anyway. Whether in chlorinated water before the world wakes, or cradling a warm, leguminous body in the quiet shallows—what matters is the return. The reentry. The soft insistence that we are not just here to perform the day, but to inhabit it. To meet it—not as machines—but as women, porous & alive.
So many beautiful images here. “Let the morning press its damp mouth against my skin”. I love the idea of seducing an hour, and that seduction being unbounded, messy, fluid, and responsive to the same in the natural world.
Eleanor, thank you—your words feel like a hand reaching across the hour itself. I love that you felt the seduction not as control, but as fluidity—something wild & responsive, like wind tracing collarbones or light shifting across the floorboards. Isn’t that the truest kind of time? Not claimed, but answered.
Kim - Really love your commentary this morning! Your last two sentence resonate so much, - "The soft insistence that we are not jut here to perform the day, but to inhabit it. To meet it -not as machines-but as women, porous & alive." At 65, I can see the long, backward view of the performative and mechanistic aspects of being a woman, - the expectations we inhabit, and those that were drilled into us. Thank you for writing today.
Nancy, thank you for these words—what a note to wake to. That long, backward view you speak of—it holds such wisdom, & such weariness too. The expectations, the scripts, the machinery we were handed. I’m so glad the last lines met you there. Here’s to the porous days ahead—the ones we write ourselves, breath by breath.
Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m so glad that line landed. Monastic, yes—but with the windows open. A way of being that holds its own form, yet lets the breeze through.
Okay, the jumper with the stretched out cuffs, "what matters is that we return," that has me in the warmest embrace. You have captured the essence of living, right here and the how we always exist by "inhabiting" a space, the space being us. Oh, the sublime sweetness of imagery, of being, of claiming a space in a way we want it to be, and not 'shoulding' on ourselves.
Mary, your words feel like that jumper itself—worn, beloved, stretched just right. Thank you. I read your note & exhaled. That line of yours—the space being us—it stays with me. What a way to name it. Here’s to living inside that space gently, without the shoulds, & with the sweetness fully intact.
It’s just past 6am here, so perhaps time for the first of what may be many warming lattes… care to join me for an afternoon swing of the legs? Be sure to bring puss too!
Kim this is absolutely beautiful! What struck me at the end was "it can spill a little. Smudge a little." To me, that means it doesn't need to be "perfect." While writing my response, I realized I put unnecessary pressure on myself wanting to commit to a full hour each morning, no matter what. To do the same activity, over and over again. I realized that doesn't have to be the case, that I'm free to allocate whatever duration I so choose, to change up what I need depending on each day, that it would be ok some days to spend 10-20 minutes on the activity for myself, and longer on a to-do list (which is not the point of this!), but I felt space open up and pressure release with that realization.
Thank you again for your words and your images, "that we are not just here to perform the day, but to inhabit it. To meet it - not as machines - but as women, porous and alive." Here's to less machines and more being.
As a 76 year old wife caring for my husband who has dementia, it’s very difficult to find time for me to be. Just recently I realized he can’t be left alone safely, so he goes with me wherever I go. He’s a love, not mean or selfish but still needy.
We have been on this path for over four years with him very slowly slipping away.
Dixie, I know how you feel as I once was the soul caretaker of my husband who had brain cancer. He became bedridden and in order to keep the insurance I had to keep working. My Mom and sister were able to come by and check on him and give him lunch. He passed away in 2004. Now my sister is going through what you are going through with her husband. Bless you both! I know how exhausting it is.
Thank you for your concern. Yes, our daughter comes over frequently. I also attend a monthly caregiver’s meeting which gives me support. My heart breaks when I witness the destruction of my guy’s brain. He was a brilliant man, he was a leader in his industry and after retirement, in our community. I am grateful he is still kind, and he loves me very much.
I'm glad you're able to take breaks. I think forms of Dementia/ALS, etc. are the cruelest deaths because the person you love has essentially died before they die.
My partner and I are in our 40s but I’m already worrying about this potential fate. I witnessed the cruelty of dementia over the last 5 years with my mum. It’s beautiful and very moving to hear your love for your husband.
Since I said goodbye to my thirties, making time has not been an issue. I do have a routine though and for me breaking it is not pleasant. I always read in the morning, make my nest lovely, read some more. After waiting the time needed after coffee and dog walking, I ride my bike and on alternate days strength training. These rituals are my glory and keep me balanced. When my daughter was young- I did the same thing and just got up earlier. Now I have always been rather bored at parties because I am ready to go to sleep when the party is beginning (not when in my twenties). I love making my space into a sanctuary and I know the deities seen happy.
I turn 37 this week and have been bumping into expiration windows at parties at the 8 pm-9pm mark. Or, four hours if it’s an earlier start. Part of it is that I hate to sacrifice my good starts to each day. I have little shame about this, I am grateful that more people in my 30s-40s world seem to feel the same way!
Most weekends are mine. Children grown, just me. The weekends are mine. No one else to take care of except me, unless a friend needs help. Friends used to be shocked when I would tell them I would sometimes spend all day in bed either doing nothing, reading, sleeping, playing or meditating. Sometimes I get up and play music to dance in my home and put on music that lifts me up like playing Bad Bunny. Before I know it there’s a smile on my face & pure joy & a feeling of freedom.
Do not be so hard on yourself Suleika. As an older person I say cherish that busy time as much as you cherish the solitude. It is not the amount of time in either but the ability to make choice that makes us feel empowered.
Soak in the glory of being and you will feel good all day!
My hour, when no one needs me, save for our kitty, who must be fed at 4:30 or all sad meowing will commence. Coffee, special cup, and the glorious freedom of deciding what shallow activity I shall in engage in while sipping away. My latest, is watching (on my computer as I do not own a TV-by choice) super shallow and lovely series, such as ,"The Summer I Turned Pretty." How lovely to recall those feelings, the urgency, the live or die moments of being that age. It lives in my cells as all memories do, and when I am finished, I am refreshed in a youthfulness induced aura. My hour. My mother called moments like that, "Found Time" and her rules were that one could not do chores, To Do's, but the job was to savor, however one decided to do so. May we all embrace "Found Time."
Oh good! Mom used that phrase on Snow Days, too. She did not do house chores, but would come out in the snow and play with us. Then, she'd go in a bit early, make hot chocolate (with marshmallows of course) and we would come in, put all our outwear on the radiators, boots on the newspaper, and all sit together laughing, talking...she was such a special, special person.
Mary, I adore that your puss keeps time like an old bell tower—announcing 4:30 with the kind of meow that brooks no delay. Your mother’s phrase—Found Time—is exquisite. Not just in its poetry, but its rules: no chores, no errands, just the pure act of savouring. I’ll take a sweet cup of your coffee from across the dateline—it’s nearing slumber here, but I’ll swing my legs beside yours all the same. For some unknown reason, coffee puts me to sleep when I drink it before bed. A lullaby in a cup for my Mediterranean-laced blood. Here’s to you, & the meowing, & the hour that’s wholly yours. May we all learn to sip our own Found Time with that same youthful, defiant grace.
And I "will swing my legs beside yours all the same." Kim, Kim, Kim, you know how to put into words, the depth, the grace, the nuance and the perfect amount of detail. I am enchanted by your writing and love beyond words, that you too love my late mother's phrase, "Found Time." I adored her and hung on her every word, often having no idea what she was imparting until many years later. She was such a giving soul and I have no doubt, she would have loved you writing (as it is you) as I do.
Mary I LOVE this. "Found Time." It evokes presence and awareness in what we do. The idea of savoring stays with me, as I often check the clock and feel like I rush from one thing to the next instead of enjoying the moment as is. Thank you for this gift of a comment!
I can’t tell you how your post hit home for me today. I have always been a doer- never stopping long enough to “be.”
Get the laundry done, sit and watch the birds except I have dishes I want to do.
My new journals waiting patiently for me to open them and put pen to paper. I’ve a collection of them- but they are so lovely- and what if I make a mistake!
Two weeks ago out of the blue I was told I have metastatic ovarian cancer. My life has been tossed in the air- as well as my family.
Someone is telling me to slow done, open one of the journals- and “be.”
Spend time sitting in the deck enjoying my hummingbirds, cardinals, grosbeaks and all the colorful finch that come to the feeders.
Please, please, please Ann, do not let "metastatic" define you. There are wonderful doctors, new treatments every day. I have a virulent form of uterine cancer and I DON'T CARE. It has caused many problems for me, but I am still ME. You are still a special person with a lot of living to do, so find those moments to "be" as often as you can. Enjoy them. Love your life!
Thank you all for your comments and support. I retired from nursing 5 yrs ago. I was an oncology nurse who worked in giving the chemotherapy as well as caring for those receiving radiation treatments- my passion for 40yrs. Fortunately, I have many great friends who continue in the field. The MD I worked with for 20yrs was the first phone call I made. She steered me to Brigham and Women’s Hospital which partners with the Dana Farber Cancer Institute- she has been my guardian angel. Tomorrow I meet with the Gyn medical Oncologist to set up a plan for treatments. I am full of gratitude for all the wonderful MD’s, patient care techs, nurses, transport personnel who have been so kind, compassionate and giving of big hugs🩷. This community too has provided support to so many and a resource for me. Thank you again.
Ann, I'm so sorry. As a survivor of another cancer, all I can say is, please get the support you need. Get that in-person mentoring and online mentoring. Get that free housecleaning while in treatment. Get that right oncology specialist. Increasingly, your cancer can be treated with what's called HIPEC. It's worth asking your oncologist about it.
I have ME/CFS (as well as a fun catalogue of associated nonsense) and one of the hardest adjustments to make was planning to do nothing (formally known as "pacing"). I exist on to-do lists and even before I fell ill, managed life using a notebook called "The Brain" (which I realised now was its own kind of journaling).
Falling ill meant less and less of my lists were being crossed out, and my feeling of incapacity and incompetence was growing to the point where my mental health was being seriously impacted: I'm also a single parent of a son with complex needs - crossing off lists was a vital tactic to managing his needs.
HERE'S THE HAPPY ENDING!
I now have "Today/tomorrow" lists where on a bad day, I can prioritise things that have to get done or life stops working an things that can wait a bit. BUT! I also now have a "Ta-da!" list where, on a day when I'm exhausted and have to Rest As An Active Verb, and tick nothing off my do-to lists, I write down stuff I still do that counts as work. So getting to the kitchen to make cereal. Showering. Going to the garden with the dog. Replying to messages in whole sentences. Brushing my hair. All of these little things add up to reflect a day that, in the end, wasn't wasted.
To-do and Ta-da. You might not have given yourself the time you needed to cross your big thing (time to yourself) off your list, but you ta-da'd loads of stuff in its place.
I'm so grateful for your weekly posts. Wishing you love, health and hope x
Hello All. Happy Birthday Suleika! I loved this! I am grateful for the validation of it is not finding time for me. I am an early morning person. For years I would swim, then run then walk. With my health I am not able to do these. Although on weekends my husband and I do walk when I am able in early mornings. And I now fill the mornings with meditation and journaling. Then work. And preparing for the call to my mom at her assisted living. On Sundays I love to read here. And this weekend we are at are favorite weekend close by beach. It has been a year since we have been here. It is beautiful. Even with my born in Germany husband telling me the football highlights of the Bayern Munich game in the background. I am so grateful to all of you.
I don’t understand why everyone is busy except me?😄 It might be because I’ve been married to an Indian for 36 years, and he never really learned to do busy the way this culture demands. Or maybe it’s something else. Anyway, I seem to have way more time than my friends or other people generally. BTW really enjoying your book. I haven’t missed a day journaling in more than 25 years, even in a post-surgical stupor. But your book has injected more energy into my practice, which sometimes feels like a bit of a slog.
So true!!!! Sundays I wake up early, water my plants and read the isolation journal prompt and skim responses that prompt my own writing and reflection!!
What a surreal experience, reading your prompt was literally like a narrative of my mornings … two kids, not four, both grown and living on their own, also a habitual early riser, cherishing the time between 6-8 am. Swimming is my immersive mediation/ exercise/ release …. one cup of coffee and then I’m off to secure a parking spot! If you haven’t tried them yet, underwater headphones while lap swimming is a game changer and a treat — perfect time to listen to music from recent releases to decades ago. Sometimes I think of it as my “mourning” swim, when I process grief (from the past or from yesterday, personal or communal) and put it in perspective. Afterwards, I’m more connected to the moment and ready to live this day.
OMG -- you just described my morning. Thank you, as always, for capturing so beautifully the the tiny moments and huge questions that fill our lives. How to respect our own time -- what a crucial question. Thank you again for everything that you so generously give us!!
A morning with intention should feel like a sip of something special, but instead, it often turns into a frantic scavenger hunt for lost objects, unfinished tasks, and forgotten identities. You underline so brilliantly the comedy of errors that is modern “me time”, and the deeper, quieter tragedy of internalised urgency. Even in solitude, we are surveilled by the part of ourselves that needs proof we’re being “good”, “productive”, “worthy”.
What if the real issue isn’t our reflex to do, but our fear of being forgotten when we don’t? We respond to our to-do lists, we fear we’ll disappear without them. Rest, then, becomes an act of self-care, but mostly an act of existential daring. It’s choosing to exist without explanation.
And maybe we need less commitment to “trying again tomorrow”, and more permission to fail gloriously today. To let the morning unravel, to eat breakfast at noon, to sit with ink-stained fingers and know they have touched something real, even if it wasn’t on the list.
I fully support the inkwell renaissance too. May the messiest pleasures always win.
"...our fear of being forgotten when we don't?" Wow, what a shift that evokes, Tamara. Thank you. Reminds me also that we are all forgotten eventually, which is an invitation to relieve ourselves of the burden of our "specialness," that we are everything and nothing.
I was about to highlight the same phrase and make a similar comment when I saw this. I think it also dovetails with Suleika's reminder to herself that she only she judges herself by her output.
I discovered the habit of going outside as soon as I wake up. I read that daylight energizes our bodies as much as caffeine, and I find that I can more readily “just be” when I am outside (away from all the chores). I putter around the garden, sometimes pulling weeds, but more often just gazing at whatever is growing or blooming. At some point, I set a timer for 20 minutes and sit on a bench, or lean against a tree, and try to let go of all passing thoughts except the loveliness of my creator. (I highly recommend this odd practice of tree leaning! I discovered by accident that trees impart wisdom and sense of ease). Usually, after this hour of solitude, I am bursting with inspiration to write something profound, or make a plan to bless someone, or just make the bed and tidy up.
I love this, Kim! And I have heard this about trees to be true!
Precisely!
Tamara
Such beautiful wisdom!🙏
Thank you so much!
"What if the real issue isn’t our reflex to do, but our fear of being forgotten when we don’t?" Mic. Drop! This phrase stopped me in my tracks when I read it. How profound.
While writing my response, I took a moment to close my eyes, to feel inward, and one of the first things I thought about was working through the to-do list, and then immediately thought, "No! That is not the point!" I couldn't believe how quickly that became the priority, when the prompt specifically asked us to write about doing something just for us. Thank you for the beautiful response Tamara. I love the images you evoke. I'm taking "it's choosing to exist without explanation" with me today.
That’s the sneaky part, isn’t it? How the to-do list slips back in like a Trojan horse, even when the drawbridge is firmly up. It’s identity dressed in sensible shoes. You close your eyes to feel inward, and suddenly there’s the mental Post-it note reminding you to buy toothpaste or finally answer that email flagged “urgent” three days ago.
I think our minds have become efficiency machines that now malfunction in silence. But that moment you had, catching yourself in the act of auto-doing? That is awareness. That is a crack in the spell. And that’s where the real magic starts, not in perfect stillness, of course not, but in noticing the interruption and choosing, again, not to obey it.
So let’s keep choosing, I say to myself every day. To be. To pause. To make space without needing to justify the architecture of it. And perhaps to write “daydream” at the top of the to-do list, and check it off in full.
Thank you, Louise!
This is beautiful.
Thank you, Lauren!
Suleika, that image—of you waist-deep, holding Lentil in the water like a question, like a kiss—lodged itself in me. Not just tender, but almost mythic. A gesture both ordinary & exquisite. It wasn’t the shriek of a morning derailed, but a soft haunting: Will you stay anyway? Even if the hour unravels? And Allegra, I can feel the chill of your steering wheel at 5:15am, the sky still navy, your breath a small fog against the glass. The reading light curled around your neck like a halo of intention. There’s something devotional in that discipline. Monastic, almost.
If I had an hour, I wouldn’t seize it—I’d seduce it. I’d brew tea so strong it could stain a tooth, drink it barefoot on the cold floor. I’d wear my oldest jumper, the one with the stretched-out cuffs I chew when I think. I wouldn’t reach for the perfect pen. I’d reach for the one that bleeds. Maybe I’d write. Maybe I’d lie down beside the open window & let the morning air press its damp mouth against my skin. I’d let the light move across the room without trying to capture it. No fixing. No improving. Just this: one woman, slightly undone, entirely present.
And perhaps that’s the lesson nestled inside both your hours—that time doesn’t need to be held tightly to matter. It can spill a little. Smudge a little. We begin again anyway. Whether in chlorinated water before the world wakes, or cradling a warm, leguminous body in the quiet shallows—what matters is the return. The reentry. The soft insistence that we are not just here to perform the day, but to inhabit it. To meet it—not as machines—but as women, porous & alive.
So many beautiful images here. “Let the morning press its damp mouth against my skin”. I love the idea of seducing an hour, and that seduction being unbounded, messy, fluid, and responsive to the same in the natural world.
Eleanor, thank you—your words feel like a hand reaching across the hour itself. I love that you felt the seduction not as control, but as fluidity—something wild & responsive, like wind tracing collarbones or light shifting across the floorboards. Isn’t that the truest kind of time? Not claimed, but answered.
I will be trying to answer time this week, rather than claim it :)
Kim - Really love your commentary this morning! Your last two sentence resonate so much, - "The soft insistence that we are not jut here to perform the day, but to inhabit it. To meet it -not as machines-but as women, porous & alive." At 65, I can see the long, backward view of the performative and mechanistic aspects of being a woman, - the expectations we inhabit, and those that were drilled into us. Thank you for writing today.
Nancy, thank you for these words—what a note to wake to. That long, backward view you speak of—it holds such wisdom, & such weariness too. The expectations, the scripts, the machinery we were handed. I’m so glad the last lines met you there. Here’s to the porous days ahead—the ones we write ourselves, breath by breath.
Love this! And yes, it is monastic. Also loved, “porous and alive.”
Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m so glad that line landed. Monastic, yes—but with the windows open. A way of being that holds its own form, yet lets the breeze through.
Spilled time—like spilled milk! Nothing to cry over ❤️
Okay, the jumper with the stretched out cuffs, "what matters is that we return," that has me in the warmest embrace. You have captured the essence of living, right here and the how we always exist by "inhabiting" a space, the space being us. Oh, the sublime sweetness of imagery, of being, of claiming a space in a way we want it to be, and not 'shoulding' on ourselves.
Mary, your words feel like that jumper itself—worn, beloved, stretched just right. Thank you. I read your note & exhaled. That line of yours—the space being us—it stays with me. What a way to name it. Here’s to living inside that space gently, without the shoulds, & with the sweetness fully intact.
It’s just past 6am here, so perhaps time for the first of what may be many warming lattes… care to join me for an afternoon swing of the legs? Be sure to bring puss too!
Sounds lovely. An afternoon swing of the legs, along with Abby Rhodes (my sweet fur girl) will be just perfect.
Kim this is absolutely beautiful! What struck me at the end was "it can spill a little. Smudge a little." To me, that means it doesn't need to be "perfect." While writing my response, I realized I put unnecessary pressure on myself wanting to commit to a full hour each morning, no matter what. To do the same activity, over and over again. I realized that doesn't have to be the case, that I'm free to allocate whatever duration I so choose, to change up what I need depending on each day, that it would be ok some days to spend 10-20 minutes on the activity for myself, and longer on a to-do list (which is not the point of this!), but I felt space open up and pressure release with that realization.
Thank you again for your words and your images, "that we are not just here to perform the day, but to inhabit it. To meet it - not as machines - but as women, porous and alive." Here's to less machines and more being.
Ha! I know this dance so well, the ChaChaCha of Avoidance, avoiding just being.
I make a habit of Practicing Being Lazy so I can trick myself it to being by calling it work.
Hang in there. You can do it. One lazy moment at a time.
The cha cha cha of avoidance….. love that‼️
As a 76 year old wife caring for my husband who has dementia, it’s very difficult to find time for me to be. Just recently I realized he can’t be left alone safely, so he goes with me wherever I go. He’s a love, not mean or selfish but still needy.
We have been on this path for over four years with him very slowly slipping away.
Thank you for space to vent.
Dixie, I know how you feel as I once was the soul caretaker of my husband who had brain cancer. He became bedridden and in order to keep the insurance I had to keep working. My Mom and sister were able to come by and check on him and give him lunch. He passed away in 2004. Now my sister is going through what you are going through with her husband. Bless you both! I know how exhausting it is.
Thank you.
Dixie how loving and kind you seem… doesn’t sound like venting. Sounds like the deepest, kind & true, Caring possible. 🩵
Dixie, you're no good to him unless you take care of yourself. Can someone come over for an hour or two so you can take care of yourself?
Thank you for your concern. Yes, our daughter comes over frequently. I also attend a monthly caregiver’s meeting which gives me support. My heart breaks when I witness the destruction of my guy’s brain. He was a brilliant man, he was a leader in his industry and after retirement, in our community. I am grateful he is still kind, and he loves me very much.
I will keep him safe and happy as long as I can.
I'm glad you're able to take breaks. I think forms of Dementia/ALS, etc. are the cruelest deaths because the person you love has essentially died before they die.
Yes, the “long goodbye “
My partner and I are in our 40s but I’m already worrying about this potential fate. I witnessed the cruelty of dementia over the last 5 years with my mum. It’s beautiful and very moving to hear your love for your husband.
Since I said goodbye to my thirties, making time has not been an issue. I do have a routine though and for me breaking it is not pleasant. I always read in the morning, make my nest lovely, read some more. After waiting the time needed after coffee and dog walking, I ride my bike and on alternate days strength training. These rituals are my glory and keep me balanced. When my daughter was young- I did the same thing and just got up earlier. Now I have always been rather bored at parties because I am ready to go to sleep when the party is beginning (not when in my twenties). I love making my space into a sanctuary and I know the deities seen happy.
I turn 37 this week and have been bumping into expiration windows at parties at the 8 pm-9pm mark. Or, four hours if it’s an earlier start. Part of it is that I hate to sacrifice my good starts to each day. I have little shame about this, I am grateful that more people in my 30s-40s world seem to feel the same way!
Most weekends are mine. Children grown, just me. The weekends are mine. No one else to take care of except me, unless a friend needs help. Friends used to be shocked when I would tell them I would sometimes spend all day in bed either doing nothing, reading, sleeping, playing or meditating. Sometimes I get up and play music to dance in my home and put on music that lifts me up like playing Bad Bunny. Before I know it there’s a smile on my face & pure joy & a feeling of freedom.
I am retired and this is my mantra, whatever, whenever. The freedom is palpable!
Do not be so hard on yourself Suleika. As an older person I say cherish that busy time as much as you cherish the solitude. It is not the amount of time in either but the ability to make choice that makes us feel empowered.
Soak in the glory of being and you will feel good all day!
My hour, when no one needs me, save for our kitty, who must be fed at 4:30 or all sad meowing will commence. Coffee, special cup, and the glorious freedom of deciding what shallow activity I shall in engage in while sipping away. My latest, is watching (on my computer as I do not own a TV-by choice) super shallow and lovely series, such as ,"The Summer I Turned Pretty." How lovely to recall those feelings, the urgency, the live or die moments of being that age. It lives in my cells as all memories do, and when I am finished, I am refreshed in a youthfulness induced aura. My hour. My mother called moments like that, "Found Time" and her rules were that one could not do chores, To Do's, but the job was to savor, however one decided to do so. May we all embrace "Found Time."
Ah, yes—found time! Love it so much ❤️
Oh good! Mom used that phrase on Snow Days, too. She did not do house chores, but would come out in the snow and play with us. Then, she'd go in a bit early, make hot chocolate (with marshmallows of course) and we would come in, put all our outwear on the radiators, boots on the newspaper, and all sit together laughing, talking...she was such a special, special person.
Mary, I adore that your puss keeps time like an old bell tower—announcing 4:30 with the kind of meow that brooks no delay. Your mother’s phrase—Found Time—is exquisite. Not just in its poetry, but its rules: no chores, no errands, just the pure act of savouring. I’ll take a sweet cup of your coffee from across the dateline—it’s nearing slumber here, but I’ll swing my legs beside yours all the same. For some unknown reason, coffee puts me to sleep when I drink it before bed. A lullaby in a cup for my Mediterranean-laced blood. Here’s to you, & the meowing, & the hour that’s wholly yours. May we all learn to sip our own Found Time with that same youthful, defiant grace.
And I "will swing my legs beside yours all the same." Kim, Kim, Kim, you know how to put into words, the depth, the grace, the nuance and the perfect amount of detail. I am enchanted by your writing and love beyond words, that you too love my late mother's phrase, "Found Time." I adored her and hung on her every word, often having no idea what she was imparting until many years later. She was such a giving soul and I have no doubt, she would have loved you writing (as it is you) as I do.
Mary I LOVE this. "Found Time." It evokes presence and awareness in what we do. The idea of savoring stays with me, as I often check the clock and feel like I rush from one thing to the next instead of enjoying the moment as is. Thank you for this gift of a comment!
I can’t tell you how your post hit home for me today. I have always been a doer- never stopping long enough to “be.”
Get the laundry done, sit and watch the birds except I have dishes I want to do.
My new journals waiting patiently for me to open them and put pen to paper. I’ve a collection of them- but they are so lovely- and what if I make a mistake!
Two weeks ago out of the blue I was told I have metastatic ovarian cancer. My life has been tossed in the air- as well as my family.
Someone is telling me to slow done, open one of the journals- and “be.”
Spend time sitting in the deck enjoying my hummingbirds, cardinals, grosbeaks and all the colorful finch that come to the feeders.
Time to take a deep breath an “BE.”
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Much love to you, Ann ❤️
Thinking of you, Ann, and sending love ❤️
Please, please, please Ann, do not let "metastatic" define you. There are wonderful doctors, new treatments every day. I have a virulent form of uterine cancer and I DON'T CARE. It has caused many problems for me, but I am still ME. You are still a special person with a lot of living to do, so find those moments to "be" as often as you can. Enjoy them. Love your life!
Thank you Diane 🩷
Wow Ann…I’m so sorry. And I’m inspired by your response to this life toss.
I am so sorry to hear. So glad you are here. 💕
Best wishes to you. ❤️
Thank you all for your comments and support. I retired from nursing 5 yrs ago. I was an oncology nurse who worked in giving the chemotherapy as well as caring for those receiving radiation treatments- my passion for 40yrs. Fortunately, I have many great friends who continue in the field. The MD I worked with for 20yrs was the first phone call I made. She steered me to Brigham and Women’s Hospital which partners with the Dana Farber Cancer Institute- she has been my guardian angel. Tomorrow I meet with the Gyn medical Oncologist to set up a plan for treatments. I am full of gratitude for all the wonderful MD’s, patient care techs, nurses, transport personnel who have been so kind, compassionate and giving of big hugs🩷. This community too has provided support to so many and a resource for me. Thank you again.
Ann, thinking about you today as you meet with your treatment team.
Ann, I'm so sorry. As a survivor of another cancer, all I can say is, please get the support you need. Get that in-person mentoring and online mentoring. Get that free housecleaning while in treatment. Get that right oncology specialist. Increasingly, your cancer can be treated with what's called HIPEC. It's worth asking your oncologist about it.
Sending love and ease, Ann.
I have ME/CFS (as well as a fun catalogue of associated nonsense) and one of the hardest adjustments to make was planning to do nothing (formally known as "pacing"). I exist on to-do lists and even before I fell ill, managed life using a notebook called "The Brain" (which I realised now was its own kind of journaling).
Falling ill meant less and less of my lists were being crossed out, and my feeling of incapacity and incompetence was growing to the point where my mental health was being seriously impacted: I'm also a single parent of a son with complex needs - crossing off lists was a vital tactic to managing his needs.
HERE'S THE HAPPY ENDING!
I now have "Today/tomorrow" lists where on a bad day, I can prioritise things that have to get done or life stops working an things that can wait a bit. BUT! I also now have a "Ta-da!" list where, on a day when I'm exhausted and have to Rest As An Active Verb, and tick nothing off my do-to lists, I write down stuff I still do that counts as work. So getting to the kitchen to make cereal. Showering. Going to the garden with the dog. Replying to messages in whole sentences. Brushing my hair. All of these little things add up to reflect a day that, in the end, wasn't wasted.
To-do and Ta-da. You might not have given yourself the time you needed to cross your big thing (time to yourself) off your list, but you ta-da'd loads of stuff in its place.
I'm so grateful for your weekly posts. Wishing you love, health and hope x
To-do and ta-da—this is brilliant! Stealing this for myself immediately!! ❤️❤️
Hello All. Happy Birthday Suleika! I loved this! I am grateful for the validation of it is not finding time for me. I am an early morning person. For years I would swim, then run then walk. With my health I am not able to do these. Although on weekends my husband and I do walk when I am able in early mornings. And I now fill the mornings with meditation and journaling. Then work. And preparing for the call to my mom at her assisted living. On Sundays I love to read here. And this weekend we are at are favorite weekend close by beach. It has been a year since we have been here. It is beautiful. Even with my born in Germany husband telling me the football highlights of the Bayern Munich game in the background. I am so grateful to all of you.
I don’t understand why everyone is busy except me?😄 It might be because I’ve been married to an Indian for 36 years, and he never really learned to do busy the way this culture demands. Or maybe it’s something else. Anyway, I seem to have way more time than my friends or other people generally. BTW really enjoying your book. I haven’t missed a day journaling in more than 25 years, even in a post-surgical stupor. But your book has injected more energy into my practice, which sometimes feels like a bit of a slog.
Maybe you need to write an easy and prompt for us on un-busyness!!
Well, I at least enjoyed the few silent minutes to sit with a coffee and read this this morning! Perhaps I will just stay here a little longer…
Come to think of it. Early Sunday morning with this Isolation Journals community. The only consistent “just being” time that I have. Thanks for that 😊
❤️❤️
So true!!!! Sundays I wake up early, water my plants and read the isolation journal prompt and skim responses that prompt my own writing and reflection!!
Yes!!💕
What a surreal experience, reading your prompt was literally like a narrative of my mornings … two kids, not four, both grown and living on their own, also a habitual early riser, cherishing the time between 6-8 am. Swimming is my immersive mediation/ exercise/ release …. one cup of coffee and then I’m off to secure a parking spot! If you haven’t tried them yet, underwater headphones while lap swimming is a game changer and a treat — perfect time to listen to music from recent releases to decades ago. Sometimes I think of it as my “mourning” swim, when I process grief (from the past or from yesterday, personal or communal) and put it in perspective. Afterwards, I’m more connected to the moment and ready to live this day.
OMG -- you just described my morning. Thank you, as always, for capturing so beautifully the the tiny moments and huge questions that fill our lives. How to respect our own time -- what a crucial question. Thank you again for everything that you so generously give us!!