For months I’ve been in hibernation mode. No writing. No major projects. Just getting by.
I feel guilty about that. Some deep-held pattern tells me my worth is determined by what I do and produce.
Rather than beating myself up I’m trying to learn to make peace with this place.
Mitch Ablom, who wrote beautiful, tragic works about losing first his mentor and later his adopted daughter, talks about the value of each day. He remembers and values the mundane as much as the extraordinary.
How often are we living only for the future? How many moments do we take for granted? How many moments will we want back one day?
Grief, terror and awesome beauty break through our automatic conditioning, bringing us into the now. So too does conscious attention.
So rather than judging myself for not doing something extraordinary I can be a better friend and better neighbor. I can be kind to myself. I can be present with whatever I do and know that it is enough.