by Wendy Strgar September 01, 2010
I am changing gears at work and releasing much of the day-to-day responsibilities of the business that has defined my days for as long as I can remember. I have hours at a time now when my mind is free from the multitude of details that constantly needed tending and the many complex relationships that required attention. I am finding myself strangely unhurried and feeling the weight of the exhaustion that I have not had time to acknowledge.
In place of my driving need to work, I find myself longing for rest. I feel out of ideas and the fire that has always burned so hot with all that I imagined to do, is little more than a pilot light. I never knew my light could flicker so low, and that I without panic or concern would feel like a little is enough. It falls well this fatigue, as it is time for me to pass a baton of sorts.
I have run a good race and the team of runners with me are strong and inspired. I finally feel like I can as Plutarch recorded in ancient Greece, enjoy my “rest: the sweet sauce of labor.” I long to swim in that sweet sauce, and immerse myself in the gratitude and peace of a job well done. I find this unfamiliar territory, as I have long seemed wired to multi-tasking and defining myself by what I do. I haven’t really known how to take in the small victories and the well-deserved rest. I have always been on to the next thing.
Letting go in the last couple of weeks was painful at first, then a bit clumsy, but now it is starting to feel buoyant. I am heartened by the words of Ovid, another ancient roman poet who wrote: “Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.” In any cycle of creative generation, rest must have its turn. I am grateful for the chance to find this part of the rotation and optimistic that sitting idle for a bit will produce surprising magic.
by Wendy Strgar October 25, 2018
“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” –Antoine de Saint-Exupery
We believe we are making it better by shielding ourselves from our own pain. This is a fool’s errand, for the pain we refuse to feel and acknowledge doesn’t dissipate from our lacking attention, but rather collects in our heart center with a weightiness that we often cannot name or discern. So fearful are we, of the potential of a broken heart, that we inadvertently refuse to open our hearts at all.
by Wendy Strgar September 13, 2018