Greetings from my horizontal position.
My back and neck pain has kept me from venturing too far from the couch. Laying around is not my nature. See, I inherited this from my God Mother, my Aunt Mary, who is known for "running the roads." All my life, I've watched her come and go, zip here and there with the delighted grace of a gazelle. I have adopted this attribute, minus the grace.
The way I am "running the roads" is by creating a list of things to do that is an arms length, just long enough to keep its completion out of reach. I spend all my time running through my list marking off the items I complete and looking with disdain at those I don't.
With this back pain, I can't do shit and it's kinda driving me mental. I've been ordered by my doctor to chillax. Making a list a mile long does not qualify as chillaxin.'
I love it when you swear.
In my morning pages today, I reached a panic moment. I couldn't write a list of things to do because I knew I couldn't accomplish anything on that list. It was then that I realized that the act of writing the list itself is what is comforting. It's a way to set down thoughts in my head so I don't have to carry them around.
Just like my morning pages.
I see where you're going here.
All my lists have actually been a short form of morning pages. This revelation makes me sigh with relief because I no longer feel beholden to crossing everything off the list. The list itself is accomplishing something.
Plus, to live the artist's life is to slow down and pay attention. How can I do by frantically trying to cross the items off my mile-long list?
In conclusion, the long list is fine and even comforting. Working my way through it like a maniac is not fine and not comforting.
I am going to practice being okay with my true list of things I can actually accomplish today:
1) Write morning pages—DONE
2) Write blog—NEARLY DONE
3) Work on my tan to keep my Maui glow
Where is my SPF 8.
SPF 8??? Is that all?