About a month ago on a random weekday afternoon I made a note in my journal that I was feeling good. It was the middle of a workday, nothing special about it besides the fact that I had just felt a bubble of contentment pop in my chest.
So I made a note about it, stopping to think about what might have caused it. The best I could come up with was that it was related to space. Space to think. Space to dream. Space to be myself.
It was a slow day at work where I could see the afternoon unfold before me with no deadlines or interruptions and so I felt comfortable pausing and letting myself think about the best way forward rather than the route of least resistance.
I thought about this daydream earlier in the week on Presidents Day, not because of anything to do with the executive branch, but because it’s one of those bonus days off for some of us that can feel undeserved and therefore more of a Sunday than a fun day.
I had a cup of coffee in one hand and my journal in the other as I wondered how to fill my day. The best I could come up with was to make time to think. To think about what’s lighting me up right now and what’s dragging me down. What I want to share with other people and what I want to keep for myself. Simply, what I want.
So often we front-load our free time with what we have to do thinking we’ll have a chunk of time to relax afterward. If you’re still awake by then, great, but if you don’t schedule time to think, you might not get to it. And if you don’t do it, someone else is going to do it for you.