Wild Women Belong to the Woods
I remember what it was like nursing my infants, how every moment of every day was about making sure they were full, or planning to. Not only did I want their bellies to be full and warm, but I wanted them to feel fully held, rested, nurtured, and picked up every time they cried out with a yet-to-be-known need.
I also remember that during that time I began to feel depleted, right around weaning-it was like the life was being sucked out of me. I think the truth is that I was sucking at making time to replenish my reserves. In my attempt to be the Sow Goddess, I’d forgotten (and had never been shown) that recharging was something I needed to think of, and create time for. In the era of attachment parenting, I felt an urgency to be with my babies at all times.
Years have passed since I nursed the wee ones, and I still have to remind myself to create time where there seems like there can be none.
A friend and I were talking about the concept of time being an illusion and irrelevant for the most part, if one conspires to believe that there is an eternal element to existence. I did some research for fun afterward. It got heady. I pulled away from the linear braincrunching (that’s not nearly as friendly a process as it once was) and thought about how I’ve experienced time as a quick flight or forgivingly elastic depending on what I’m doing in the moment. I reminded myself that the way I survived having tiny, needy people glued to my ribcage is that I made myself believe that when I had the thought “I don’t have enough time!” that not having enough time was not going to be my issue. My issue was always going to be my willingness to create the experience I wanted to have. I had to believe that I could make the time, create the time, just because I declared that it was important. It stuck. I still believe I can make time, not necessarily magically, but by seeing how easily I give it away. Then taking it back.
There will always be Very Good Reasons we humans can come up with for why we’re not living life in a way which honors it: our body temples, our creative dreams, our wishes for intimacy, satisfying work or study, our desire to be connected to something greater than our limited scope. The thing I always yearn for is being outside in nature, sitting on the Earth, alone or with my people. Every time I have the conversation with myself or my beloved, the answer is quick and easy.
I think I’ve read Alex Franzen’s Why I Do Not Use Social Media Anymore about 3,837 times. I go back to it again and again, because it’s one of the most important things I’ve read all year, maybe longer. I read it because I’m not only aware (from repetitive visiting) that we have 39,420,000 minutes in the average human lifespan, but that when I choose to make time for what I want to experience in my life, I am honoring those minutes.
Having left Facebook completely, (the fan page peeled off, too) and my years-neglected Twitter account, too, I think I’m making progress on honoring my minutes. Now I have no excuse not to read this book from cover to cover.
Are you thinking about leaving some or all social media behind? Here are some of the ridiculous fears I had to quickly unravel before I pulled the trigger on Twitter and Facebook:
Fear: “I won’t be able to connect with my friends and family as easily.”
Comforting counter-thought: Keywords are *as easily*, babe. Write them a letter or call them if you want to really connect. Better yet, make a date to see them. You’d love that.
Fear: “Will everyone forget about me and what I do?”
Comforting counter-thought: Not everyone.
Persistent fear: Can you expand on that?
Comforting counter-thought: No ma’am.
Fear: “This is how I tell people about my work. Will my business suffer?”
Comforting counter-thought: You had a successful business online seven years before social media became the norm. I think you’ll be okay, and maybe you’ll become a better writer from actually writing instead of putting random post-it notes up all over the social-media place and leaking out good ideas without making real commitments.
Fear: “What if I miss out on a really important conversation?!”
Comforting counter-thought: If it’s meant to make it to you, it will. Until then, have important conversations with anyone around you who wants to have them, too.
Marianne Williamson said “Ego is, quite literally, a fearful thought.”
As with so many things, I think fear is what keeps us from claiming our sacred lives as our own. Funny how tricky it can be.