I don't know why, but somehow making time for myself is one of the things I struggle with most.
To rest. To slow down. To just sit somewhere and do absolutely nothing.
My instinct is always to keep moving. Another project, another idea, another thing to build, grow or explore. And honestly, I love it. Doing what I do gives me energy.
But sometimes I wonder if constantly moving forward is a way of avoiding standing still.
Learning to pause
There is always something that could be done here. Plants need watering. Animals need looking after. Something needs repairing, cleaning, planting or harvesting.
And there will always be another thing waiting.
Maybe looking after myself means accepting that not everything needs to be done today.
Sometimes doing nothing is not wasting time. Sometimes it is simply being alive.
A different kind of progress
I think I am slowly learning that progress doesn't always have to look like movement.
Sometimes it can be sitting outside with the dogs. Watching the evening light move across the garden. Having a coffee without immediately thinking about what comes next.
Maybe there is value in giving myself the same patience I try to give everything else that grows here.
Plants don't hurry. Seasons don't hurry. Life doesn't seem particularly interested in my deadlines.
Perhaps I don't need to be either.
