Saturday, March 27, 2010

weekend!

and why, might you ask, is the weekend a treat for me?

(since I work every day anyway).

Because! I plan my weekend days around a delicious mid-day nap!

And because on weekends I don't have any of my (wonderful & important) helpers around, which allows me the luxury of more time to enjoy doing what I first loved about this work: feeling the delight of knowing, as I wake in the morning, that there is nothing I have to do except spend time quietly making things.

I don't have to play at being manager, traffic director, organizer, responsible business owner (I'm trying to learn that one). I don't have to have my brain constantly tuned into how to make sure everyone has productive work to do in their hours here, making sure everyone is ok (which although is not really my responsibility, it IS my nature to care about such things, and it is my home). I don't have to answer the phone if I don't want to, I don't have to try to figure out when I am going to manage to get my run in, make it to yoga, get the sandblasting done in time for their arrival.

And it's quiet.

Not that I don't enjoy the lively chatter, the gut-busting laughter, the thoughtful discussions.

I love those.

In fact although I energetically resisted the notion of having helpers here in my home/factory for a long time (predicting that I would miss my quiet solitude) I really love the energy and company of my lovely helpers.

They contribute an enormous positive quality to my life (not to mention the essential help).

But my quiet solitude is still the place where my truest self resides and refreshes.

Quiet solitude always feels like home.

And I breathe out on weekends.

4 comments:

  1. the Tibetans count the out breath first.

    I am with you on this whole solitude thing only I celebrate mine on Mondays when I wake to an empty house and the full day is ahead of me with only myself to think of. It's when the battery gets charged.
    namaste

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  2. Isn't it the most delicious indulgence? A whole day of solitude.

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