what my urgency is telling me...

^{Recently, I noticed that I feel a sense of urgency in a lot of areas of my life. When I’m task-oriented, this gets activated tenfold. So it’s no surprise the build-up to the holidays sent it into overdrive. The whole season of gift-giving, tradition-keeping and magic-making (as a primary caregiver) and the bigness of the story I tell around that was some serious fuel to that productivity gremlin to latch onto.}

I felt myself already anticipating this all play out from momentous start to its deflated finish. Just as other years had. There’s this battle between two forces: one, the whole getting-ahead-of-it part, the lists, the sales, the planning, the holiday experience-boxes ticked and, the other, the pull towards interrupting and interrogating the why behind it all.

Unfortunately, I don’t tend to start this yearly inquiry earlier than maybe, say, the last week of November? So, there I am, trying to do all this internal investigation while also having this building sense of time slipping and the real financial necessity to get ahead of costs and planning it all out to keep it manageable. Still wanting to keep some of the aspects to the season that feel special while also trying my best to avoid overspending, the rushing, the crowds I so hate and the inevitable consumption hangover.

My inbox filling with black Friday deals and deadlines didn’t exactly help. I don’t recall signing up for all these store emails and generally get overwhelmed by the pressurized firehose of sales. This holiday season I was hoping to make some more progress in the whole less-consumer-focused-holidays and more about the experiences and vibes.

My yearly tightrope balancing act between giving the kids that fun experience of opening gifts under the tree while shopping within the values I want to continue to cultivate and lowering the bar for myself too. The bottomlessness of planning and rushing and trying to get everyone what they want while also focusing on connection and the holiday feeling I hope to instill. No pressure! And the reality that I often miss something and tend to find after all the planning and flailing, I’m often forgotten.

So this is all swirling through my consciousness as I am writing my lists and planning and allowing some deep grief to roll through me because I don’t really want to hold it all again and I’m sad that has been the case for so long. Welcome to my brain.

And that’s when I noticed how many things were feeling urgent. From groceries to gifts to pretty much anything on my list, holiday related or not. When I would get an idea for the kids or teachers or something else, my first response was almost exclusively to jump right into action. One thing that became very clear when I took a breath was that nothing was, in fact, urgent. I can almost always afford to take another moment, minutes, hours, even days to consider whether the task is even necessary.

Another thing that started to stick out was that when I felt something needed my attention immediately, it often required me to override my energy needs or desires. When I would sit with the sensation, just long enough to ask myself if it was necessary right this moment, the answer was almost always a very clear and resounding NO. It could wait. Maybe my body was onto something.

In that moment of clarity, that’s often where I found more options, considerations, and space in front of me to breathe. And the majority of the time, I would find something better when I waited or find I didn’t need to do or get the thing after all.

Could this be the answer to my cognitive dissonance?

This slowing down enough to notice is so intertwined with my movement practise. How I feel, hear and translate the guidance I receive in yoga and reformer classes has shifted so massively as I’ve cultivated the act of slowing down enough to listen for the next prompt or the sensation in my body, the next edge I can take it. My movements, my transitions, my strength.

I have come to realize that I can’t really listen to the instructor or my body unless I slow down. And I don’t know what to do next unless I listen. Obvious, right? What I didn’t expect was how this would allow me to develop my movement practise through subtle adjustments to my posture and form, be more present with my breath and my body, and notice how I shift from day-to-day, practise-to-practise. To listen to cues and build a new awareness around my learning style. And with that awareness, I’ve also managed to cultivate more compassion for my body’s cyclical progress and needs. This became more important as I tried different instructors who I couldn’t anticipate as easily.

I have noticed that the slower I move between sequences, the more control I have to maintain or adjust my balance and posture. Even if I may be able to guess what the next cue is going to be, it’s never a certainty. And in that pausing to listen and breathe, I must be in the moment with what is because just the slightest wandering thought can leave me playing catch up with the class or losing balance and landing on my ass. I can’t wander off into my memories of another class, or give my ego full reign of it’s desire to perform the best student or my nervous system that wants me to anticipate and be prepared for what it believes is inevitable.  

This is often just the most fractional of pauses, mind you. Blink and you’ll miss it. And yet as I began to use this template in my life to interrogate that sense of urgency that bubbles up, I could see how much possibility and choice lived there. In that subtle pause. Yes I could still follow it and get some shit done today so I don’t have to do it tomorrow and I could also choose instead to listen to the voice in my head asking me to take this free moment to read or rest or listen to my inner compass that’s telling me there’s something more aligned if I just wait a little longer and breathe.

To do it differently, I needed to try something different.

I thought the shifts I needed to make would require a whole mapped out plan. Instead, it was this subtle shift and questioning, building awareness and seeing that maybe despite the calendar date and holiday gift buying guides, the various merry-making events and to dos, there was still enough room to pause and notice where I could shift my perspective, even just a little. That maybe the consumption hangover didn’t have to be inevitable this year. Maybe every free moment didn’t have to be devoted to anticipating the overwhelm. Maybe even the overwhelm didn’t have to be inevitable. Maybe there was enough room to interrupt the barrelling pressure and allow for something newer, softer, and more creative.

The urgency had me living in the past and anticipating a future that repeated that reality. In the pause, I could notice what was true in the moment and make a choice from that place.

It meant that instead of rushing to some future point I was able to rest and enjoy all the season there and then. I could be in rhythm with my energetic needs along the way. I noticed that I trusted myself to make it all work when I followed my body’s cues. In that space of slowing down, it occurred to me that a lot of what I love most about that time of year is the most simple of pleasures. Twinkle lights and candles. Cozy movie watching and holiday treats. Crafting and warm drinks.

And so I put more focus on those delights and pulled back the reigns on my constant whirling dervish of planning. I still did a million things to make the holiday magic because I’m in process, not in perfection. However, I experienced more of the seasonal beauty in the moment. Paused when I was in that urgent rushing story telling. Rested more. I got gifts for the kids they wanted, not gifts I wanted them to want. I lit more candles and did more crafts. I asked for more support and felt ok when it wasn’t quite the amount I needed. Instead, I just lowered the bar for what I agreed to take on. I avoided crowded events that always created more anxiety than joy. I prioritized my movement practises. I let go of holding anyone else’s disappointment or expectations.

And by the end of the season, I felt satiated and grateful and like I did it all good enough. That I was present for the parts that really lit me up, including aspects of gift planning that do give me zips of pleasure and satisfaction. Not the because I have to do, but the because I know you and I’ve been listening.

I’m still in process with how many opportunities there are to slow down and notice and co-create in that space of aliveness.

 If you’re looking to practise slowing down, weaving is a very good way to give that to yourself. 

I have a circular weaving working with some spots left February 28^th at Blue Crow Gallery. Find out more here.

What ways do you have that help you slow down? Next time you feel that pull towards rushing, can you pause long enough to ask if you have another option?