Sabbatical Report: Week Two

Dear Reader, I am almost through week two of my sabbatical. I continue to congratulate myself for taking it. Slowly, I have chipped away at the theoretical to-do list (I say 'theoretical' because currently the to-do list is housed on a bazillion little post-it notes here and there throughout my house, purse, and devices). Every day I have put up my feet, closed my eyes, and listened to this song:

I highly recommend it as a short but effective meditation for mid-day. Go ahead, close your eyes and take a listen. I'll wait.

So, sabbatical-wise, here's what I've learned:

(1) I put way too much pressure on myself to be writing all the time, when really, I can't write all the time, and shouldn't. When I go back to my desk in January, I hope I can do it with a more helpful mindset -- one of gentle acceptance for the rolls and swells of life, rather than the mad paddling toward shore of writing time.

(2) I'm reminded that, although it's not fashionable to admit this, I really love my role as home-tender. When I was in school, we girls were always told we could do anything, we could have it all (sidebar: I wonder if they are still telling young girls that, or are we in a post-feminist frame of mind now?). But the 'anything' never included domestic pursuits; it was more oriented toward space exploration, political power, and the like. And an important caveat was left off of "You can have it all." They should've followed up with, "But not all at the same time." Sometimes it feels like our society has forgotten the value of a comfy little place called home. Although it can sometimes be tedious and repetitive -- three meals a day EVERY DAY! -- I feel good about creating a peaceful place for my family to be, a little hub in the wide, wide world. I feel so lucky to be doing what I'm doing. I don't want to be an astronaut, or run for president.

But I do want to be a poet, and I look forward to returning to my desk with renewed energy in January. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to close my eyes and listen to the Miserere. Then I'm going to get dinner ready with my kids.


drew said...

What a beautiful song. In the throes of lists and chores, it provided a lifting, a loosening. Thank you.

Sandy Longhorn said...

Wonderful post! I hope the message now is that we can be whatever we want to be, and every choice has value.

Molly said...

Glad you both liked the post. Sandy, I hope that's the message young girls are getting, too.