Yesterday was a full on pajama day for me (except for the 30 minutes I had to run to the post office…darn you certified mail!).
I happened by a mirror and stopped in recognition. “Oh hello gorgeous self! How are you this morning?” I asked…myself.
I smiled. Met my own eyes. Was gladdened by what I saw, unwashed hair, no makeup, tired face, and all.
I am glad in my own company. I am in love with my face. I am accepting of my squishy, menopausal body. I love the company of trees and birds and squirrels. I collect rocks and feathers and little doodads I find when I’m out walking. The small elephant I found months ago turned out to be the PERFECT things for a client discussion today. I am also a homeowner now (WEIRD) and have officially lived in this house longer than I have lived ANYWHERE in my entire life. Did I mention this is weird?
And yet, it’s been quite a journey getting to this new place.
But the longer I’m here (in this mindset, in this body, not specifically this house or town), the more I like it here.
I no longer want to be at war with myself or others.
I do not care to be “right,” to be seen, to be admired.
I no longer wish to be busy, overwhelmed, or cranky (though sometimes I am).
And I am definitely not hustling, striving, or bio-hacking ever.
I am actively practicing gathering peace around me (like pools or layers of skirts, I’ve read from someone, somewhere). I’m also gathering peace in my mind, in my body, in my house, in my relationships, and in my work.
I have zero tolerance for nail polish on my nails, makeup on my face, or bras on my body. This last one is an inconvenient truth and one which I have not yet made peace with because as a woman with a certain cup size, that’s a LOT to let hang loose.
Regardless…
The more I step into peace, the more I find space for stillness, curiosity, and levity (like talking about my boobs and menopause).
The truth is, so many things used to MATTER. It all seemed so urgent and important and necessary. It had to go a certain way, BE a certain way, and most of all, stuff had to HAPPEN. If I wasn’t making it happen, what good was I?
But something about turning 50 a few years ago started a radical change. Menopause is pounding a lot flat (except for my stomach!). I am very nearly out of fucks, which gives me so much room to shrug and say, “I just genuinely don’t care to get my panties in a bunch about that.”
I am aware I find more peace when I avoid scrolling through the book of face. And LinkedIn? I can barely stomach it. Even Substack, which I used to LOVE, has become A.I. infested with shouty Notes and long form content clearly not entirely (or at all) written not by the person posting it.
Instead, I’d like to invite you to meet me in the forest. We can watch all the ways the leaves fall, enjoy the clouds racing by, and listen to the wind. We can pull out our cameras for a mindful wander and snap a few photos for memories or art. We can enjoy the silence, enjoy being together, and even sit and share some real things going on for us.
I’m pretty sure this is how we are supposed to do life. Enjoying our own company and the company of others, including the more than human world. We’ve just forgotten how to practice BE-ing because we’re so busy DO-ing.
That’s okay…I’m here to invite you (and myself) to practice remembering. 🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳
Warmly,
Angie