The Pleasure in Permission

June 07, 2013

I want my life to feel like :: organic cotton everything, colors so vibrant it’s almost as if you could taste them, the perfect weight of a down comforter.

The slow, casual stroll through the grocery story, popping things in my cart as they appeal to me.

The preparing of the brussels sprouts for a Sunday dinner. Praying as I chop.

The lusty gaze around a room brimming with everything exactly as I like it, as I designed it, comprised by items of careful selection.

The much-too-long outdoor shower, mesmerized by the woods surrounding me and one cautious eye on the wasp building it’s nest next to my conditioner.

The fevered typing of a 4am idea – where suddenly everything is clear and I don’t have a moment to waste.

photo (12)

The everyday celebrations. The ordinary moments where you give thanks for what you have by enjoying them profusely.

The way that we can choose to plug back into our lives, even when everything feels like it’s spinning out of control and we might get gobbled up whole by the sheer multitude of our to-do lists.

I have been moving very slowly.

So slowly that I’ve been wondering if I might disappear completely or melt into the sidewalk.

I’ve been feeling that panic rising like a tidal wave – you have to do something or you will not be anything – where my worth is handcuffed to my ability to produce.

I’ve been moving slowly, but in this tender time, I have noticed the tidal wave of yearning that I’ve carefully ignored by winding myself up with a cup of coffee and setting myself to a task.

A hunger for the soft time. The unstructured time. The creative time.

A desire to accumulate things that are just right – and release everything that is not.

A connection with the part of myself that isn’t worried about who’s going to run that errand or map out the next six months.

The part that wants to dress up. Take chances.

Revel in my own vulnerability. 

This is about intrinsic motivation – about working when you are able and forgiving yourself when you aren’t.

It is about granting yourself huge permission, a thousand times a day. Write your permission on your hands. Tattoo it on your body. Carry it with you. Cultivate an altar in it’s honor.

The theme of my summer is celebration.

But, truly it’s about giving yourself permission to celebrate. Permission to dig in. Permission to love your life, unabashedly.