Here's to Waaaaay More Fun!

Apparently, I missed it.

National Festival of Sleep Day on January 3rd. There’s a whole following.

Not a huge loss as I routinely sleep well, (apart from occasional nightmares as a child and after the birth of my first child.) But to spend the day in pajamas knowing others around the world are doing the same might have been pretty synchronicity cool.

If quirky celebrations like this are your thing, or you would have appreciated the sleep activities but missed out too, don’t worry. On February 28th, it's Public Sleeping Day (lots less creepy than it sounds) and celebrations can commence with friends and assured well-preparedness. And pssst! Additional FYI: International World Sleep Day is March 18th.

A wise person once said, “Sleep doesn’t help if it’s your soul that’s tired.”

Now that’s something that hits my figurative bullseye.

Deep places of internal ache. Or the absence of feeling entirely. Too much piled on top of an already buckling mortal framework. When individuals and society at large forget that you are flesh add blood and not a robot. No matter what your role: daughter, husband, parent, teacher, superintendent, doctor. Rest and recharge are a necessity.

From my current life’s perspective, the subtle and not-so-subtle goading by those who encourage the exhausted to keep going, dismiss the concept of holistic wellbeing. They see mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual aspects of the human being as incidentals, capable of surviving despite neglect and abuse. Therefore, they can face sacrifice for an objective deemed more important. Cover your migraine with game face and cook dinner for the family. Forgo your lunch break to finish the all-important financial reports. Consistent little hits here and there over time go unnoticed. The damage is cumulative.

It mirrors the guidance on drinking water. By the time thirst kicks in, your body is already dehydrated.

When you finally feel imbalanced and god-awful, your soul has been through the fine cross-cut shredder.

Grandiose proclamations for change have a greater probability of failure. I like the idea of breaking things into bite-sized chunks. It’s where I thrive! Yes, I'm a bite-sized chunkian. Just concentrate on doing ONE thing. And then…do it again.

This year as part of my resolution revolution, I will take one more deep breath to give myself one more moment before I respond/reply to a situation/communication that is potentially stress-inducing. I think we’ve all spent the day (or year) at the stress fair extravaganza that showcased every ‘last straw’ scenario imaginable.

No need to go on those rides again.

ABSOLUTE YUCKFEST!

I’ll take a cleansing inhalation instead, thanks.

I plan to drink one more glass of water to give my body the necessary fluid intake it deserves to function at optimal capacity for life’s upcoming exciting new chapters. Our bodies work so hard. Until they don’t. Water is required by all body systems to function at optimum. And yet, I balk at the inconvenience of extra bathroom treks? So over myself with the water thang. One. More. Glass.

I’m gonna definitely write one pitch, for one publication. Taking me one step closer to becoming a writer who gets to do nothing else but write. What a joyous occasion that will be! There are loads of things that I get a kick out of doing each day, but creating something written factors into all of them as fun. Even when it’s a struggle (because the truth is, it can be), writing something feels a heck of a lot better than writing nothing.

Look at or listen to one thing of beauty each day. When speaking of beauty Kahlil Gibran wrote, “And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy. It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, but rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.”

Elements of beauty in the eye of the beholder uplift the places my spirit that I had no idea sustained dings and dents. A thing of beauty resurrects those parts of us, reminding us of purity and light still wielding power in the world.

To chuck one more pooty limitation out the window. Those sneaky ones. The hold-back-cutting-off-circulation-in-places-you-weren’t-even-aware-of kind. Miracle of miracles that movement was even possible under the weight of all that naysaying. As a child whenever I would use the term “can’t” with my grandmother, she’d quickly reply, “Can’t is a coward.” And when I countered with “won’t” there was another quip, “Won’t is can’t’s cousin.” Grannie didn’t take kindly to limits.

So…

It’s not too late. There’s always another way.

You’re not too old. Difficult. Unworthy. Unteachable. Hard to love.

It's not impossible since you don’t have enough money, collateral, time, or moxie.

To borrow my grandmother’s oft-repeated expletive, “Rubbish and fiddlesticks!” (Sure hope such hardcore phrases don't breach community standard guidelines!)

Anticipated heavy downpours of worthless limitations meeting their doom it is then.

I will definitely be listening to one more inspirational video. After subscription to some outstanding fare, I get a sensation of what I can only describe as brain ease. Like someone demonstrating a life hack of something I’ve been doing the hard way. When willpower wanes or I find

myself going round and round in unhelpful patterns, a quick video clip benefits my progress immensely by altering my perspective. After all, repetitive loops of futility are only fit for lassoing pesky little viruses, am I right?

And finally, here’s to making one more memory. To making a friend spew their cappuccino laughing. Going the extra mile to help someone who thinks you’re going through too much trouble and then is glad you did. To another card game of 'Exploding Kittens' (no actual kittens are in danger and it’s mega fun.) Taking the long meandering bike ride and finding where the cormorants hang out. Showing your children how to make no-bake pizza with flour and plain yogurt. Or a virtual game night with your family across time zones. Finding the locations of all the smell-good plants that make eyes close on reflex.

It’s not the size or the time.

It’s the strength and the impact.

Like precious memories of childhood that stand out the most on account of a simple something that stayed with you all these years. After all that has happened in ‘the years that must not be named,’ there can always be time for making one more good memory.

References:

Gibran, K. (1923) The Prophet. Reprint, New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1992

Thank you so much for reading! I truly appreciate it.

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