Skip to main content

Lean in

A few years ago, I came across this delightful article,  Leaning Back, about the merits of doing less in The Economist.

To think that there may be financial gain, not loss or trade-off, by doing less is intriguing.  It is particularly useful for me to think about this as I am fully immersed in my "busy season".  As the demands for my time is ratcheted up in every aspect of my life, I must discern how to spend the precious resource of my energy.

I also like this idea because in recent years I've been putting in a whole lot of effort and leaning or resting has not been happening with a regular enough frequency. The once bottomless reserve of energy has been dwindling and the gauge is just above empty.

I also read the book Lean In about taking our place as women leaders in business.  It encourages women to put their resources towards building healthy relationships and reliable childcare (easier said than done) to enable themselves to take a full seat at the negotiating and business tables.  In my view, leaning in, is another way of resting. Freeing ourselves up from guilt to remove barriers to us to do what we do best, whatever that may be.  I don't mind working hard, but when everything is effort and hard, the joy of working diminishes. And of course this is all from a very particular perspective that does not address systemic inequalities that limit our access to affordable childcare and equal division of labour at home.

A few months ago, I started re-evaluating my exertion vs. my rest and decided that after my walk to work I would take the elevator up the one floor to my office.

I realize it is a bit ridiculous to take the elevator only one floor, but I cherish those 30 seconds. I lean against the wall and take a deep breath or two before I start my day. Instead of struggling to begin my day, I have decided to take a few seconds to rest instead.

I have also decided to lean on my family and friends more.  And you know what? That's an even better, more rewarding way to rest than leaning into an elevator wall. However, it was that elevator that first got me thinking, take it, take a rest. Lean into it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Small Craft

I accompanied my mother-in-law to an appointment this week. On the paper, preparing her for the appointment, it invited her bring along something to read or a small craft. As soon as I heard about this invitation to bring a small craft into an otherwise austere waiting area, my mind started to do bouncing somersaults in many different directions. Googly eyes? Glue gun? Feathers? Play clay? Friendship braclets?

The words coming out of my mouth

  These days I wear a mask. I don't wear a mask all of the time, only when I am indoors or unavoidably up close with people who I don't usually interact with.  I wear one when I am ordering things, or buying things or attempting to enjoy some form of public entertainment.  I cannot rely on reading others lips. My lips are hidden. We ask each other to repeat.  We move our eyes or our whole heads to try and enunciate more clearly.  I say fewer words, more carefully chosen words behind the mask. Sometimes that is helpful, sometimes that just causes more confusion. I walked into the woods. I did not need a mask.  I only saw a few other people and they were distanced. Masks were unnecessary. After so much talking and not talking and avoiding talking out loud I am forced to examine when I speak and when I choose not to. This is not a bad thing since I can be an insufferable chatter box, just a new thing for my brain to adjust itself to. When I am not standing aro...

Bringing her back

 As the first anniversary finally passed, I exhaled.  The sadness still nibbled away at the edges, but not clawing deep into my chest like it had been with varying degrees of ferocity in the twelve months previously.  She died in early summer, so I plunged into ocean and lakes and ate fruit straight from the plant.  The grief became softer, the folk songs carried me along in the potato patch we planted in therapy. But then, I started to miss her.  The deep grief kept her so close and now as the pressure eased, so did her presence.  I held my breath and decided to be really sad this morning just to see her face.  To sit in her prescence.  My breath became jagged as I cried for her, for us.   This Taylor Swift cover  by Marc Maron broke me right open this morning.  Here's to staying broken open enough to keep your loved ones close. And then, I walked into her garden. The garden she envisionied, planted over and over and still pre...