I’m sitting at the quietest library I have ever been to in Frankfort, MI. I came here to recalibrate, to slow down, to catch up on emails, to put the first stitches in a new quilt. Good intentions, I’ve got a couple hundred of them.
Alas, here I am, new phone in hand, diddling around on Instagram, blasting Taylor Swift into my headphones, Facebook chatting, google mapping how far away Pentwater is, and drowning in my intentions. The best of the best lakes just a few minutes away, and here I am in the library just looking at the internet like it’s a world that’s gonna help me out one of these days.
For anyone who has been living in this winter madness, this might be a relatable situation. There are a few things that help me get out of this : getting on the yoga mat, drinking water, going for walks, and calling a friend are a few key life savers. Yet every time I sit down at the computer to GET WORK DONE, I drown. Almost immediately. There is hardy even a moment where I tread water and MAYBE get to at least one thing on the to do list.
My friend Elyse recently showed me how she has been making her to-do lists. It’s a grid of sorts, with boxes on the page that break the list into categories : social media, bills, events, wholesale orders, emails, etc – I’m gonna need to try something like this. I usually take the pen out to make the list, and then before I know it I’m knee deep in Pinterest and I’ve completely forgotten what I came to do in the first place.
So here I am, with an offering of “who knows” – this post was originally going to be about how much I love listening to Taylor Swift and my lack of shame for pop music consumption. Instead I sit with a much more honest revealing of how my insides feel, but I’m pretty sure Taylor Swift taught me to do that in the first place. Spring is only 4 days away, and I can start to feel the need and desire for rebirth. At the same time honoring that I need to do things even when I don’t want to do them, and that the feeling of completion is far more nourishing than the fleeting high of a distraction.
photographs by John Hanson