I absolutely adore Mondays.
Yes. Me. I love them. They’re my favorite. Better than Friday even.
Mondays are my vibe day. My creative day. My wear yoga clothes all day, day, my big hearty breakfast day, my work from home in my beautiful office, seated in my cushy turquoise chair, sunlight streaming in the window and warming my feet as I type and schedule and research and drink coffee and and play music day.
On Mondays the kids always get to school on time.
Doesn’t that sound just perfect?
Tuesdays, usually we’re on time. By Wednesdays we’re playing with tardy slip fire. And then the week wraps up, and I’ve gone to a half dozen meetings, a handful of events, written a thousand e-mails, spent three hours on the phone, made eye contact with my husband, cooked meals while helping with homework, played a board game or five, and gotten everyone everywhere to all their things somewhat close to on time.
Saturday comes, and we keep going. The energy of the work week carries right into our weekend, and there I am, simultaneously flipping pancakes, changing laundry loads, and negotiating time with the clock, hoping if I just asked once more I might get ten more minutes out of this hour.
Sundays are sometimes slower. Maybe. Not really, but kind of. Occasionally.
And when Sunday ends, all I can think about is that I can’t wait for Monday, because on Monday— there is no rush.
We lead a life of rush. Me, my husband, the kids, our family, we rush everywhere to do everything, and it’s building as the kids get older and more involved in sports, activities and school.
There is a sense of urgency in every task, because even when we are are not in a hurry, it still feels that way.
It’s residual, the effects of that haste. Rush carries energy, big, dynamic, intense, adrenaline pumping energy. It’s the kind that gets you up and out the door and it’s also the kind that keeps you awake at night. It’s the motivation, but it’s also the guilt.
It leaves us feeling as though there is always somewhere to be, something to do, and a task left unfinished. It’s why my adrenals are burned out, why I fight through exhaustion every afternoon, and why I’m finding myself wondering how I can make every day like Monday.
There is a way to be productive and not rushed. There is a way to be on time, and not rushed. There is a way to move purposefully, and with power and grace, and not rushed.
There is a way to not rush, and it begins with the obvious answer— meditation. No really. That’s where it starts. If you don’t want to feel rushed, tell your body, mind, spirit, and the Universe that to hold please, by getting still with your bad self first.
Sit down. Shut up. Hold still.
Let today be Monday, even if it’s not.
“I have so much to accomplish today that I must meditate for two hours instead of one.” ~Mahatma Gandhi
Like this post? Post it, tweet it, pin it, google it, trip on it, or otherwise spread the social love people. Really, really, like it? Subscribe to my feed and get posts delivered in your inbox. Can’t get enough? Stalk me: @CFOLikeaMother, Facebook, Pinterest, or on instagram @ictfd