Lately, life has been all blurred edges and falling pieces hurtling down faster and slower than my fingers can seem to grasp. And while I fail to run frantically enough to keep pace, I am somehow also far from being present. I fumble at gestures of letting pieces fall into place, which honestly, is pretty much sandpaper against the grain. It just ain’t me. I love clean lines, the deep dark blues of almost dark, and the calmness of whites and greys. Patterns and bright colors feel loud and all wrong most days in my own quiet space. I want to take hold and shift all the things in my life around until they are just so.
But life doesn’t bend and fold itself into the strategic color coded maze which is our agenda. And don’t even get me started on the self created stress of feebly attempting to fit life into neatly labeled boxes. Here on my left we have work in this nice medium sized box and friends in the gold glittered on my right. Don’t forget about family and school on the shelf above. A box for everything. A label maker’s heaven.
But the thing is, people and places, and the sharp curving lines of those life gone wrong kinda times just can’t be duct taped into our self assigned and allotted spaces. Life seems to have the habit of bursting out of duct taped boxes with silvery threads dangling down and every bit of too much spilling out over broken edges.
And you’re going places, meeting people, and building & building and striving & striving cause nobody’s gonna do it for ya and this is what we’re taught. But there’s hustle and then there’s frenzy.
The line is as dark as it is faint. Tip toe around that line and learn it well. Because on one side there is the sweetness of rest as well as good beautiful faith filled work. Cross over to the other and never enough will creep into your bones and grind them down to a dust. And as never enough distracts you, anxiety will steal away with the pieces of every good thing already in your hands as you sprint to get to the place where you think you’ll rest.
But there’s always another staircase to climb – I seem to find them around every corner. Moving and reappearing like Hogwarts come to life.
Jobs. Money. You know the drill. All those things. They’ll own you and run you. Move back to a kinder metric my friend. Those things will color your world in shades of envy laced with fear tinged by the thoughts of never being enough. How ugly that must be. How alone is it there? No wonder that place slowly fades to the color of nothing which is the living kind of death.
And then in a beautiful moment where I call upon my inner Carrie Bradshaw, I can’t help but wonder… Didn’t I stop measuring my success this way a long time ago? Maybe I need a reminder that this is all so fleeting and the real work, the real nitty gritty let’s get down to it and hustle is the much harder and truer work of knowing god & loving people. I mean that’s my metric and I swap it often for others, but I need to come back to this.
I don’t know if this lesson is just for me alone or perhaps also, another’s ears. To step back and survey how we are measuring our days and hours together.
Breathe. Be present and aware of what you’re really after. Trust that god is with you. Moving from frenzy to hustle means repeatedly taking a step back and choosing to align with your truest self, which you know is quite the work after all.