January feels like frenetic chaos.
It seems the New Year begs for new resolutions and dreams and the desire to do them right now. I race around like a chicken with my head cut off, frantically chasing what's next, what now, then what. I pump myself full of caffeine and super foods, making sure there's a constant supply of inspiration and nutrition, desperately squeeze every bit that I can from every last interaction and bible verse.
Oh how I want to hustle like everyone else does, but without an intravenous drip of black coffee, I can't keep up. I find myself growing tired, weary, sick of it all. Slowly, I fall behind, losing pace and aware that I'm lagging. The hustle starts to exhaust my soul and my creativity.
By the second week of January I'm exhausted and dreadful to be around, thinking only of the growing list of To Dos and longing desperately for sleep -sound, dreamy sleep cuddled in cozy flannels and hunkered under a down comforter. My edges get rough and jagged, posing danger to anyone who might draw near.
And it's those same rough, scraggly spots that wear down the lacy, gentle edges of my soul.
Making space for gentleness, slowly, carefully, making space to slow will allow for healing. Like muscles broken down and torn up, we must grow, heal, and slow. We need to slow. In fact, we can take slowing to a greater dedication and stop.
Yes, we need to stop. To stop and sip the coffee, to read that book, to make an extra five minutes in the morning routine. To stop and sleep in late, to put relaxation on our To Do lists, to reflect and restore. Without the stop, we cannot reset.
Welcome February, may you bring calm.