Busyness. It’s a persistent theme in my life, tapping me on the shoulder, demanding to be dealt with in a new way. With some freshness. Some softness. Sigh… some softness. I like being busy. But too busy and I ricochet off away from myself. Away from my heart.
Problem is, I’m so used to being busy that sometimes I manufacture “too busy”, because that’s what I’m used to. I’m used to responding, reacting, coping with busyness. It’s my default position. Or it was.
In the past few days I’ve been really aware of how often I freak out about being too busy…I take a breath, return to my heart and, watching my frenzied self flinging off into outer space to attend to all my crazy crap, I realise this doesn’t have to be “too busy”. It can be just busy enough. And I can smile at it. And stay close to my heart.