This morning, I had this genius idea to use my TV folding table as my writing “desk” so I can face the window in my office. It feels like substantial momentum for me since I’ve been struggling to carve out some time to even write anymore. I figured, I don’t have a cute cottage upstate to write for extensive periods without pressure (a dream for another time), and I’ve already conditioned my body to feel dread every time I set myself up at my desk amongst my dual monitors and to-do lists, so why not emulate as closely to the ideal writing setup and focus my body (and energy) towards the window. Hopefully, that minor angle towards the outside world will inspire magic in my writing.
I feel bogged down by my extremely routine life. I can’t say I hate it because it would make me sound ungrateful and privileged, but I also can’t ignore how predictably calculated it all seems. Ironically enough, the calculated days give me a sense of agency over my current existence when everything around me seems dictated by bureaucratic pressures. And yet, I feel like I’m grieving that youthful fervor and exhilaration that my twenties willingly gave into.
Every morning, I try to give myself 30 minutes of uninterrupted time to daydream elsewhere and converse with my inner being. I light some incense, I play calm meditation music, I make myself lemon ginger turmeric tea, I sit in my reading chair, I meditate for 5 minutes, I journal for 5 minutes — all ingredients for a hopeful foundation before I begin my day. Or at least these are the 30 minutes I give myself in which I have total agency over my energy, otherwise, the rest of the day is lost to the existential fallow of questioning my worth and purpose.
I’m stuck in this nebulous state of imagining a different life for myself. I’ve been in this state for some time now, desperate to find the answers that will propel me even a few steps into the right direction. I know it’s unfair to expect the universe to unequivocally hand me my rightful path (insert some quote about “it’s the journey, not the destination”), but I find myself daydreaming of a different life that feels so real and vivid in my mind. And it makes me wonder, this imagined life simply wouldn’t come to me so viscerally if it wasn’t somewhat truthful. But I can’t give it too much thought or else I’d spiral into fear and anxiety. Instead, positioning my tiny writing “desk” towards the window feels like giant leaps forward. It feels hopeful and purposeful because I’m doing what I can within the limitations I inevitably can’t control, and maybe just maybe, that’s all that’s asked of me in this moment. Who knows, I’ll never understand, but I’ll let myself have this win.
I’m trying to do better about paying attention to these small wins, not because they amount to something significant, but because amidst the prolonged haze structured by calculated routines, I can notice the momentous energy shifts within my body. It may sound a little cuckoo but I truly picture a bit of the weight on my soul lifting ever so slightly. It feels like I can exhale a tad bit more and that I’m not clouding my intuition entirely.
I hope you surprise yourself with a slight shift today. I hope you’re met with a stroke of genius that asks you to change up your routine a bit because it simply feels better. I hope that small change inspires tremendous energy flow into your body. I hope you give that daydream a little more credit for the intended disturbance.
switching up positions (yes, the ariana song!),
mai sunshine