Bookmark #668

Last night, with all intentions of finishing my writing, I decided to lie down with my eyes closed for about five minutes. I made sure I would get up and out of bed, so I did not change my clothes, I did not do the dishes, and I left all the curtains open. When I woke up, it was the first light of the day that hit me through the open curtains first, and then, it occurred to me my nap had lasted the entire night. I had not realised what had happened until I noticed the clothes I was wearing, and then, I remembered the dishes. While there was frustration, I quickly realised what had happened was already over. I could not let it plague the day ahead, so I began it earnestly.

I come from a fastidious and punctual home, so parts of it are ingrained within my very being. We must be toe-to-toe with time in all our endeavours. But a punctual home is often an impatient home, too, in some ways more than others, and so, I thought of patience, of waiting and resting. I thought of what I will do differently. In the early hour that began the day in reverse, with me dressed up, with the dishes all piled up, and with the curtains wide open, I had little else to do than sit and make a cup of coffee, but mostly, just sit. And so, I sat, and while I do give myself the due rest I deserve even without a night of sleeping in denim jeans, it was more important to do it today. The body can be moved further than we think, but we must pay heed when the mind decides to lay itself down. When the mind says, I cannot go any longer without taking a minute or two, all punctuality and, indeed, all urgency must go out the window.

It is a realisation that has not come easily; frankly, I have lost much to gain this understanding. There are parts of me now that do not fit well with what I was taught growing up, regardless of the intentions of the lessons in question. But that does not mean I cannot keep both parts to myself. In the end, life is but a balancing act. Where we come from and where we go are part of the same story, after all, and all threads must connect in the end. At least, that is how it is for good stories. I do not know which one my life will turn out to be. Not yet.

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