I’d planned to write a post today about meeting Cheryl Strayed. I got up early, did my morning pages, took a long walk with Eric and the dogs, and then spent the rest of the morning doing laundry, going through my email inbox, sweeping, putting clean sheets on the bed, and straightening up the house. I am teaching a yoga class this evening, so I also need to prepare just a few quick things for it, then teach it of course. I realized somewhere around lunch time that I only had enough energy to either write a blog post or teach my yoga class.
In the not so recent past, I would have pushed myself to do both. I wouldn’t have listened when my body whispered, “it was a long week, and I sure am tired.” I would have listened instead to the pushy voice that insisted I plan out a whole new class for this evening because a few people coming may have already been there when I practice taught the same series, that I should write a blog post too, go on the afternoon walk with the dogs, do a little bit of CSU work that had come up late in the day Friday instead of waiting until Monday, start tomorrow’s blog post and even Monday’s if I had time — to do all the things.
Instead, I’m doing what is best for me. I’m going to rest this afternoon instead of putting a bunch of energy into writing about Cheryl Strayed, even though it’s something I want to do. I’m going to teach the class I’ve learned and am comfortable with so I can teach this first time with greater ease. I’m going to let Eric walk the dogs in the afternoon heat while I take a nap. It might seem like a small shift, but for me it’s revolutionary.