An Imprecise guide to relaxing with God and not badgering the inner badgers
Glory and Barking Thoughts
I lay in my blue and white hammock Sunday night. My feet extended above me in my well-loved yellow flip flops. Oh, these last days of summer glory!
The maples rustled cooling whispers of calm. The breeze softened the warm day's exit. I had sought this elusive repose all week, and here it was.
As I looked up at the trees, I thought about the question asked in Sunday’s sermon, "What could you discern with God to stop doing in this next season?"
The first thing that came to mind?
Badgering myself.
Ouch. I’m not happy to admit that I struggle with this, but a part of me often barks orders “to get my act together” and “what's wrong with you?”
This is a season of shifting. Summer to fall. For many of us, the pace of the days are moving from slow to fast. I must now do the opposite. For me, work and academically regimented days transition to creative writing, which requires space.
Every book I've opened this week has started with the same message, "slow down, you are not a machine." Relax. Today in the sermon, the words resonate, "Your life is a garden."
I know this. I try to live it. In fact, I created a whole community around cultivating sustainable creative rhythms through soul care practice.
But yep, I'm a fellow struggler. I'm not going to tell you I've got anything figured out. I'm learning and relearning. Winning and failing.
A month ago I went on a personal retreat to a farm in Northwest Missouri. It took me a good 20 hours to fully relax, right before my last hour on my retreat. Those last 60 minutes, I swung in a hammock, under rare Midwest evergreen trees on a gorgeous summer day. "Let me hold you," I sensed God saying. “Delight in me. Slow down. Trust me with your pace.”
I surrendered at that moment and I let him hold me. That was summer, but now as fall approaches and my daily day patterns shift, old habits and thought patterns mozy on in.
Perhaps you find yourself here too. One season feels golden, the next, you're unsure and slightly stricken with a weird panicky sensation.
What am I doing? How do I possibly slow down in the daily?
Here’s what I wrote in my journal at the end of the retreat:
“God, the best part was being with you, loving you, letting you love me. Time to let my mind, heart, and body breathe.”
I sensed him answering, “Pursue what takes time. Beauty. Slowness. Intentionality. Savor the gift of my glory. Slow down for joy. Slow waaaayyyy down. Be silent.”
At the time I write this, I haven’t posted on social media in two weeks. Nor have I sent out a newsletter. I’d love to tell you it has felt good, but it hasn’t.
As I reflected last night in my hammock on how to make my life a garden, on what to prune, I spoke with God about what it might be like to be quiet, to slow down, and to not worry about what I think people might need or want me to do.
Those negative thoughts happen, but they are not reality, unless I act on them. Writing with my favorite pen, making a homemade dinner for my family, batting a pickleball with a friend, and watering my zinnias are my actuality.
I relish the last days of summer’s song. Always have.
I’m not going to fight my thoughts (badgering the badgers never works), nor fret the changing light.
Instead, I hang out with God in the hammock and remember…slowness is an invitation to his presence.
My pace will change. He will fill me with his Word and his song for this season. He will make space within me.
I'm beginning to relax.
Looking for a place to craft a sustainable creative rhythm? The Creative and Free Collective community membership is for women in creative leadership who want to live their lives with more courage, creativity, and compassion.
