A rainy morning and the cats and I are curled up by the fireplace. We are the only ones home, and it is quiet. The rain pitter patters on the porch outside, and I consciously let go of a thought about our dysfunctional downspouts.
Instead I focus on the continuity of the rhythm, the lack of auditory interruption. Cats can be pretty quiet roommates.
When I was a kid, I often wished I were a cat. The way they would lounge in the sunshine with no place to be, no expectations or commitments other than to soaking up some radiant warmth and maybe a nap.
Maybe not as often, but that wish still arises as an adult, especially at times when I have been running in six different directions or having to manage six different sets of expectations. Days when I am tired and would like to have no responsibilities other than taking a solid nap and washing behind my ears.
Yesterday I was eagerly moving through my day, checking things off my to-do list, connecting with people, getting ready for the rhythm of a slightly busier than usual week.
Today, I am wishing I were a cat.
I imagine myself lying by the fireplace and just resting. My mind immediately has a list of shoulds at the ready, assailing me with all the things I should be getting done instead. I feel guilty for even having the thought.
What is hard about stopping to rest?
For me, it goes against the productivity model of my upbringing. Yes, I mean you, Dad. (Now that he is retired, he will even stop long enough to read this).
It also goes against the messages of our culture today. I am supposed to be working hard to make something of myself, to be the best, to keep striving, achieving, accumulating. To what end?
I suspect there is not actually an arrival point.
Am I not already something? Someone? Who is this better version of myself that I am supposed to be cultivating? All I really have is the me that is here right now.
Do I need a little work? Yup. I am also perfect just like this.
Today, that me is happy to be in pajamas by the fire for a short while. The feelings of guilt that arise can be here, too. Or they may choose to float away. I am going to put my attention on gratitude instead.
Purrrrrrr…
What is hard for you about stopping to rest? What is the subtext present?
Instead I focus on the continuity of the rhythm, the lack of auditory interruption. Cats can be pretty quiet roommates.
When I was a kid, I often wished I were a cat. The way they would lounge in the sunshine with no place to be, no expectations or commitments other than to soaking up some radiant warmth and maybe a nap.
Maybe not as often, but that wish still arises as an adult, especially at times when I have been running in six different directions or having to manage six different sets of expectations. Days when I am tired and would like to have no responsibilities other than taking a solid nap and washing behind my ears.
Yesterday I was eagerly moving through my day, checking things off my to-do list, connecting with people, getting ready for the rhythm of a slightly busier than usual week.
Today, I am wishing I were a cat.
I imagine myself lying by the fireplace and just resting. My mind immediately has a list of shoulds at the ready, assailing me with all the things I should be getting done instead. I feel guilty for even having the thought.
What is hard about stopping to rest?
For me, it goes against the productivity model of my upbringing. Yes, I mean you, Dad. (Now that he is retired, he will even stop long enough to read this).
It also goes against the messages of our culture today. I am supposed to be working hard to make something of myself, to be the best, to keep striving, achieving, accumulating. To what end?
I suspect there is not actually an arrival point.
Am I not already something? Someone? Who is this better version of myself that I am supposed to be cultivating? All I really have is the me that is here right now.
Do I need a little work? Yup. I am also perfect just like this.
Today, that me is happy to be in pajamas by the fire for a short while. The feelings of guilt that arise can be here, too. Or they may choose to float away. I am going to put my attention on gratitude instead.
Purrrrrrr…
What is hard for you about stopping to rest? What is the subtext present?
 | Jessica Curtis is a professional coach who helps people cultivate intention and live from a place of meaning and authenticity. If you think you could benefit from working with Jessica or want to invite her to work with your group, reach out to start a conversation. |
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