-Janis Joplin
In
the subject and spirit of giving, it dawned on me that possibly I should
consider the gifts I’ve imparted upon myself.
Holding my sacred space and relishing quiet moments of solitude,
indulging in an engrossing read, constructing fabrics with my hands and the
gentle glide of wooden tools, the excitement of the inception of a new product,
stringing my thoughts into readable material. All of these creative outlets become an
offering to the world, and yet they are also a gift to self.
I
am a firm believer in that making oneself the primary recipient of care is the
only real way to tend to the dependents in our lives. For whatever reason, we are made to feel
egocentric when we devote time to accommodate our own needs first and I only
wish that we could dismantle this rationale.
I am noticing an expanding dialogue as of late, especially on social
media lately “self care.” Public Figures
and bloggers alike posing the question; “how do you carve out ‘me’ time?”
It’s
both fascinating and disconcerting that we have to search for the time to
satisfy our desires, or our creative cravings.
I see my best friend, a new mother, feeling wrong about longing for this
time to herself. Why? How can she truly mother her child without
giving to herself, first? And yet, as a
commuter, I am given these hours each day to utilize at my own discretion for
just this. I used to fall into the pity
party when questioned about the length of my commute. Yes, it is long. Yes, there are days when I am tired and just
want to hit that magic button and teleport home. I used to really resent my train ride, and
sometimes, I still do. I’m human, after all.
Until I adjusted my mindset began treating it as my hours: the only
ticks on the clock that no one could take away from me. It is my gift to myself to establish this
investment in ME.
Impulsively,
I purchased a laptop last week. No real
research as to what I necessitated, no real plan, except that I haven’t owned a
personal computer since college. With
only an intention of finding a deeper purpose in my craft, I decided to use it
to share the thoughts that consistently buzz in my mind. And with a night of little sleep, a jolt of
caffeine, I make sure that my time is spent however I wish. I still struggle
with what I “should” be doing and no doubt do I battle with remaining in the
present moment, but from the time my feet extend from the platform to the comfort
of (hopefully) a window seat, until the final terminal notification echoes from
the speakers inside the third car, “This is your final stop, Grand
Central.” In those sixty or so minutes,
I effort to appreciate the process and the journey, rather than solely the destination. And I make sure that I give to me, so I can
step out of those otherworldly doors onto 42nd street, and give of myself
to the world.
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