"I've wasted so much time today"

A haiku (for time's sake)

GOTCHA! This isn’t a haiku. And if the only reason you clicked on this was because you thought it would be short, making it easier to squeeze into your busy routine — stay a minute, and chat. Give me ten minutes.

I am you. I want to do everything. Absolutely everything. I suffer from chronic enthusiasm and FOMO (“fear of missing out” for anyone unplagued/unfamiliar). I want to see, touch, smell, taste, experience, swallow, and digest every single atom of this beautifully color-filled, crackling, oozing, psychedelic world. I want to be everything. I want to be a monk, a rabbi, an actress, an author, an Olympic athlete, a mom, a baby, and the grass in spring. I would bury myself in the lukewarm earth and wait for neon green shoots to flower from my eyeballs, but that requires stillness.

Stillness is nice and all, but movement is safer. I cram my days, and then my brain decides it won’t be quiet until at least midnight. Even then, it’s not really quiet — it’s more like a low hum. And the cycle repeats itself. Movement is safety. In the past, I often felt like I was doing something wrong whenever I took a break. “I could be doing so much!” Ahh, but that’s where I’m wrong (and you are, too!), you are doing something. You’re participating in an act of adoration, worship, and life. So this fear of missing out, and this need to meet imaginary standards of self-worth, was robbing me of sleep. I often wonder if the devil’s biggest asset is sleep, and depriving us of it. Is he winning half the battle by keeping me awake when I should be sleeping? Probably. While at work, I overheard a girl say to her friend, “I’ve wasted so much time today.” What a phrase. One that conjures feelings of inadequacy and regret; a feeling of impending doom and the certainty of death itself. Dramatic, perhaps, but true. We stumble through our fear of death by cramming our moments in order to build anything that might potentially outlive us, including a reputation (work ethic, accolades, promotions, awards, honors, to be well-known for your art/craft, insert your personal aspiration here). These desires aren’t bad, but the things we do to achieve them can be harmful. And the devil loves this. It keeps us from being. It keeps us from living with the kind of contentment that was found in a garden once, long ago, walking with our creator. It keeps us from sitting safely in God’s grace. It emphasizes striving. It keeps us from the very posture that is required to spiritually reflect and question. It keeps us from sleep.

In all of this “I should rest more” self-talk and “ruthless elimination of hurry” quotes, I then realized, after some time had passed, that I had fallen into another trap set by well-meaning saints; I took it to the other extreme internally.

While one sect of secular culture might praise the grind, there’s another culture that demonizes it. So, in my case, the pengulum swung, and I began to feel guilty about my schedule. And not in a good “conviction” sort of way (which I have also experienced and benefited from) — rather, it was as though I was having rest fomo. Not that I was actually exhausted to an unhealthy degree, but I just felt as though I should be slower than I was in my daily pace. Upon reflection, I had the epiphany that it was really because everyone kept telling me how busy I was. I was being told it was too much. They kept touting that I was the busiest person they knew (some meant it as a compliment), but I didn’t take it as a badge of honor; I took it as a demotion in the ranks of “present, winsome, holistic people with organic coffee and mindfulness notebooks.” Yeah, I wanted to be a part of that club. And that’s when I realized I had it all wrong.

Okay, I know I’m losing half of you because you’re realizing you aren’t used to sitting down and reading something long-form in one sitting, so let me speed this up and recap: yes, sleep is important, balance is vital, and priorities will save you. Rest is good! We know. But I’m going to say something else that will hopefully rescue you from the prison of self-criticism — being busy can be good, too.

Hear me out.

I’m learning how to reframe. I can’t fight the busy. I can’t. It’s the season of life in which I live. I’ve realized that some — a lot, actually — of this weariness comes from me battling with myself; with my God-given purpose, and with my current season of life. I grow weary in the fight against it — not actually from my pace and life itself. Rest and busyness are not contradictory. You can be busy with good things in your day, and busy getting good rest at night and on your sabbath. That’s the life I am trying to cultivate in this season.

God said to me during prayer, “I did not make you to be slow.” I was shook. More than anything, I was relieved. This epiphany seemed to stop time. In this season, I’m meant to be a doer. I’m meant to have my days consumed by good and beautiful things. It is okay that I can’t commit to more, and it’s okay that I can’t cut anything else out of my schedule — because it is exactly what it is meant to be. Big, busy, and abundant. Busy isn’t a bad word. It can be — but it’s not always. We need to reframe that and not make an idol of pace, no matter to which extreme it bends.

Don’t “do” out of begrudging obligation to imaginary standards, or because of crippling fomo or the fear of inadequacy. Do from love. Have mercy on yourself and allow yourself abundance. Give yourself permission to have abundance in which rest plays the role of partner, spouse, unified in matrimony, the better half. Do not feel guilty for having a life full of good things. Including rest.

Here’s the clincher, and the part you need to hear: abundance takes time. It just does. So, allow yourself that. Time. Time to grow your own abundance, and time to rest in the midst of it all. Rest will come in different forms, don’t compare rest or what it should look like; just as much as you shouldn’t compare productivity. I am giving you permission to do a lot. And I am also giving you permission to rest however truly rejuvenates you. Balance is important. But you’re allowed to be busy; you’re allowed to live in a season of abundance.

True presence is only possible when we stop fighting the abundance; fully giving ourselves over to the goodness of God and the mercies of His strength that carry us to the couch after a day of serving love itself.

Don’t feel guilty for rest, but for goodness sake, don’t feel guilty for movement, either. Keep moving. And keep sleeping. Keep the sabbath. Listen to your soul and body. You may not be able to be everything, but you’re certainly allowed to be. Be busy, passionate, sleepy, rested, intentional, and loving. Be it all. And most of all, be easy on yourself.

Wow, see?! You did it!! You read this whole thing in (maybe) one sitting! Take that, short-form media! Reclaim that attention span! And it only took you six minutes — now you have four to spare! :)

Go live in your abundance! :)