Pruning

"There was a bowl of porridge on the kitchen table and beside it, a saucer with a lump of golden honeycomb on it, and a jug of rich yellow cream. I spooned a lump of the honeycomb and mixed it into the thick porridge, then I poured in the cream. There was toast, too, cooked beneath the grill as my father cooked it, with homemade blackberry jam. There was the best cup of tea I have ever drunk. By the fireplace, the kitten lapped at a saucer of creamy milk, and purred so loudly I could hear it across the room. I wished I could purr too. I would have purred then." 

- The Ocean at the End of the Lane

There are a lot of things going on.

I have found myself longing for time. Even though I often have a night or so a week when nothing is going on, it doesn't help as much as I would wish and I was wondering why. It got me thinking back to an activity Lee did in Project Gym. You have cups labeled with the important things in your life: people, projects, fun, art, day jobs, etc. You only have a certain amount of passion fruit. How do you divide your passion?

Multiple projects take energy, even when you are not working on them directly. You are thinking about them, and devoting resources to them. I look at my life and I have a lot of things going on that I devote time and energy to: my family, my friends, Lee, my day job, God, Neverwhere, John Blade, my three blogs, my YA class, my multimedia class, exercise, being a company member of Flying V, my 30x30 list, social media, all while trying to live up to everyone's expectations and planning for the future (future projects, future jobs, future blog entries, future events).

I read Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman and found myself envying the Hempstock's kitchen with it's porridge and jelly, or its crispy golden shepherd's pie, or its fresh baked bread. Simple but good, hearty food. I found myself wishing I could bake bread. Not as something to add to a list and cram into one night where I stress over the shopping and the recipe and staying up until midnight because I started late. Taking a week to bake bread. Go shopping one day. Kneading the dough the next. Baking it the next. Sitting and enjoying eating it the day after that.

I need more of that in my life. Simple, good things that take time, but are worth it. Not lots of small things that I have to cram in all at once, not appreciating them, sending them out half baked to move onto the next thing.

I have been trying to prune my life. I am training myself that just because I have a day off doesn't mean I need to say yes to someone who asks me to do something on that day. It is ok to say "I'm sorry, I am spending that night at home," rather than feeling guilty and caving because I technically do not have anything planned that evening.

I need my unplanned time. If I do not give something space, it will never grow: my ideas, my self. I have not allowed anything to marinate. I just chew it up and spit it out. No wonder I do not write. I have not taken the time to explore, to play, to dwell in possibility, to examine what I really think.

I need to be deep instead of wide.