I have found myself in a similar place lately. I usually have a list of things I need to get done. But, I just couldn't get moving. So, I sat on my swing and noticed the trees blowing gently in the wind. I looked at the weeds without feeling guilty that I hadn't started weeding. I appreciated that after 5 years of reseeding I finally had grass in my backyard that the moles hadn't destroyed. I even told myself, "Enough!" I usually work very hard on keeping up. But yesterday. I just relaxed and enjoyed the peace. And, it was enough.
Enough is a concept that seems to be alien to most humans. Particularly Americans. It seems to me that we always want to take things one step farther. Is it ingrained or learned?
I experience it as both having the day be enough but also that the textiles and time lead to flights of fancy - as it were. While I pay attention to what wants to be made, the room itself seems to dance with the "I could be this or that or look at this in a new way..." . I have found it to be more of moving into their world rather than relating it to rushing in mine.
“Moving into their world” feels very close to what I keep stumbling toward myself. The temptation is always to arrive with plans already in hand, while the cloth, the room, and even the day seem to be quietly asking something altogether different.
Perhaps attention is less about directing than about entering.
You have expressed beautifully where I am finding myself today. I have been trying to bend the cloth to my will, while the cloth patiently waits for me to arrive.
I have found myself in a similar place lately. I usually have a list of things I need to get done. But, I just couldn't get moving. So, I sat on my swing and noticed the trees blowing gently in the wind. I looked at the weeds without feeling guilty that I hadn't started weeding. I appreciated that after 5 years of reseeding I finally had grass in my backyard that the moles hadn't destroyed. I even told myself, "Enough!" I usually work very hard on keeping up. But yesterday. I just relaxed and enjoyed the peace. And, it was enough.
Thank you for this, Zihna.
I love that the day didn’t ask you to conquer the weeds. It simply invited you to notice what had already grown.
There is such kindness in that.
And yes…it was enough.
Enough is a concept that seems to be alien to most humans. Particularly Americans. It seems to me that we always want to take things one step farther. Is it ingrained or learned?
Perhaps enough isn’t something we possess at all.
Perhaps it is something we receive.
Not because we finally become disciplined enough to stop asking for more, but because we notice what has already been placed in the bowl.
Interesting perspective.
I experience it as both having the day be enough but also that the textiles and time lead to flights of fancy - as it were. While I pay attention to what wants to be made, the room itself seems to dance with the "I could be this or that or look at this in a new way..." . I have found it to be more of moving into their world rather than relating it to rushing in mine.
I rather love that distinction, Celia.
“Moving into their world” feels very close to what I keep stumbling toward myself. The temptation is always to arrive with plans already in hand, while the cloth, the room, and even the day seem to be quietly asking something altogether different.
Perhaps attention is less about directing than about entering.
Thank you for adding another thread to the cloth.
You have expressed beautifully where I am finding myself today. I have been trying to bend the cloth to my will, while the cloth patiently waits for me to arrive.
Gratitude
I think you’ve just written the sentence that wanted to hide inside my Note: “the cloth patiently waits for me to arrive.”
What a generous way of seeing it. It asks so much less of us than perfection…only presence.
Thank you, Joanna.
It's a rainy day here, and I have no meetings or client work. I can focus on creating - food, words, and a few stitches. That is more than enough!
Thank you for your beautiful reflections Joe. 💙☮️
That sounds like a beautiful day, Linda.
I love that you didn’t ask it to become anything else.
Rain. Food. Words. A few stitches.
Sometimes abundance arrives looking exactly like that.
I'm slowly learning Joe! 💙