It’s the stuff that gets me.
Always the stuff. Take now, for example. I’ve got the start of so many lists roving about in my head. All the stuff I need to gather, buy, plan… Even now, after I’ve attached myself to a plan to reduce stuff (leaning into what I call a reductionist lifestyle) I’m still in gathering mode.
I’ve got the grocery list: How do I, mom and wife, come up with some great dinner ideas and understand, comprehend (who are we kidding, remember) everything that is needed to prepare the meals? Lists, and more lists and the distracting activity of looking at lovely, tempting food blogs and treasuring great photography and needing a new camera and I’m on photography blogs and I think I’ll change my background to this misty-magical photo of morning edging in over Bear Lake…
Oh yeah – ooops. I was making a list of items I need for our camping/roadtrip/vacation to Colorado in a few weeks. This means a new tent (and gear, Lord have mercy, that I don’t have but want in fasty colors and lasty fabric) and food-prep stuff and maybe I’ll finish my regular grocery list after I just peek at rafting companies that might be suitable for my little kids too…
Again, ooops. I’m lost here and need so much stuff. Especially if I want to get my basement organized and start a crafting project with my kids and make crochet necklaces (funky, lovely). It’s exhuausing, and suddenly I realize that my back aches and I need yoga. I need quiet. My brain needs to pause, as always.
Because I’m blessed. Even without the lists we’ll have healthy dinners. Even without the planning, we’ll see the heart-rending vistas of Rocky Mountain National Park. Even without the tick-marks and check-marks my kids and I can get creative and try something new. Without = pause. Without = quiet.