Stewing on Sunday

Taking my sweet sweet time

Right now, my home smells like vegetable soup — the rich, oniony, warm scent of home mingling with the leavings of a Christmas candle. I am cooking venison stew.

While I sit on the couch after a day of luxurious slowness and rest, I am contemplating the incredibly contentious relationship I have with Time. I mention it often in my writings here, but I’m bringing it up again in an effort to, once and for all, offer myself permission, accountability and validation for the pain I inflict on myself by my often skewed temporal perception.

My personal time is the unforsaken. It is sand running through my fingers despite my wanting to nestle it close and tight.

I constantly worry about “running out” of time, even if I can’t explain where it could possibly be running to.

In my mind, 5 hours can feel like 15 minutes, and I get wrapped up in that concept — more than I’d like to admit. For that reason, I often struggle with large periods of unplanned/unscheduled time. I get lost in them. However, what I’m beginning to recognize is that these open spaces can be attributed solely to rest, and what’s more, what I do with them is entirely up to me. Hours stretch out before me even when it doesn’t seem so.

My partner recently told me that they wish I could “experience leisure.” The joke is that I neither know how to stay still, nor do I understand the concept of doing nothing. While they relish the idea of passing the weekend in quiet rest, I balk at the idea, and am fidgety and difficult.

All this is to say, I am making more of an effort to take stock of the spaciousness of my life. I wish to place myself in a position to recognize when I need rest and stillness, and give myself permission to have it.

I wish to offer myself attention when I am craving that, or when I am feeling emotionally wounded, and to explore the depths of what is writhing deeply within me.

I wish to soothe the itchy, incessant ache I am realizing is for community, connection and reverence, and to satiate that with meaningful relationship and reciprocity.

I wish for quality time, all around. To see my parents more and to sink more deeply into my most intimate relationships — with myself

with my partner,

and with the Earth and sky, which I am drawn back to again and again.

My time is precious and valuable, not to be taken advantage of or be squandered, and I see this now. It won’t be perfect, but I wish to make a sincere effort to cherish my moments whether they are spent in bed or in the forest.

I pray this next week is full to the brim with everything I am desiring in this moment:

rich, savory stew

music new and old

uninterrupted sleep

productive stretches

a surprise package

intentional budgeting

rock climbing

hour-long video calls

meaningful, practical, skill-based therapy

lovemaking

rupture and repair

a bath

hydration

guitar practice

drum practice

a big hug from a friend

nourishment: spiritually, professionally, emotionally, physically, and mentally

May your time be your own.

A

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Inspired by these musings on time:

Try a Little Tenderness, Otis Redding

Good Times (Let The Good Times Roll), Phoebe Snow