Despite the luxury of time that is July and August, there are so many things I didn’t accomplish. I didn’t go golfing or biking. In fact, the clubs and the bike are still hanging on the wall in the garage. I didn’t attend any events at Saskatoon’s Jazz Festival, Children’s Festival or the Fringe. I didn’t get the carpets cleaned or the fence replaced. And, I didn’t make my way through even half the books I’d hope to read.
I did, however, enjoy my morning walks along the river and lunches on the back deck. I shared some great visits with friends and family, and spent time with family who came here from away. I was tickled to spend several fun filled days with my seven-year-old grandson, Ethan. I sketched and painted and tended the garden.
I helped my Dad total up the grain he’d grown over a lifetime of farming and translated the bushels of wheat, durum and barley into loaves of bread, bowls of spaghetti and bottles of beer. (Amazing totals those!) I worked on the design for a new business offering and arranged for the second printing of my latest book.
Still, in the richness and muchness of life, it’s easy to feel like I haven’t done or been or given … enough. Maybe you feel that way, too!
Action: As we leave Summer behind and move into the Fall, may you ease a few of those self-inflicted ‘must do- should do’ pressures in your world by treating yourself to a daily dose of contentment.
Here’s my latest everyday mantra for greater peace of mind:
Give what you have to give,
And let it be enough.
Rest in having done your best,
And leave it at that!
PS – Repeat as necessary.
Quote Of The Week: We make the world we find at home, at work, and at play. Today is mine to make. Let me choose my attitude with care. – Karen Casey
Resource Of The Week: Leo Barbauta offers insights and a handful of helpful strategies in this article: A Guide To Practical Contentment.
Readers Write: In response to the recent message, The Gift Of Stopping, Pause Reader SV writes: I broke my leg this spring slipping on some ice. I am making slow and steady progress but am definitely more tortoise than hare when it comes to getting places. This is not all bad. In fact, walking slowly has been a bit of a gift. I am way more intentional about each step I take and notice my surroundings much more than before this happened. I have typically been a person who gets impatient behind slow walkers in malls and on sidewalks, especially if they appear to be sauntering for no reason. As my recovery continues I know my walking will eventually speed up. I hope I continue to see the value in going slow, and appreciating the journey as much as the destination.