the weekend report - on single-tasking
Yet again, I have recently felt the need to over-simplify. Like every human, I carry complexities, dichotomies, and paradox--all of these usually rivet and inspire me. For whatever reason, however, I am just a bit tired of feeling unclear, convoluted, and conflicted about so many different issues. As I wrote on a postcard this weekend, I feel the great urgency of momentum while simultaneously feeling the need to slam both feet down on the breaks. I want to cut free and run wildly through the streets; I want to lock the doors and tuck in under mounds of blankets. I want things to change; I want them to stay exactly as they are forever. I want to say everything; I want to be silent. I suffocate with anticipation; and cripple with dread. Did I ever feel just ONE way about something? It seems the impetuous nature of being a child would provide such clarity of desire, but alas, I am no longer a child. In adulthood, is it impossible to regain?
While trying to honor this burden within, the strongest lingering toll it takes is exhaustion. I therefore seek solace in the simple. For me, this weekend meant single-mindedly focusing on making a good meal (which also happened to help meet my 2011 goal of trying a new recipe every month). I had a huge list of tasks that it would have felt very good to accomplish, but when my eyes landed upon "cook a new recipe," I knew it was just the nesting I needed. I was trying to quiet my active and productive mind, to shhhhhsh it into resting. This is one of my newest disciplines- learning to do ONE thing at a time with total focus. Perfecting the art of single-tasking.
So I did.
I took my sweet time at the grocery store.
I chopped and sauteed and measured with a deliberate care of slowness.
It was good because it was with purpose.
I chopped and sauteed and measured with a deliberate care of slowness.
It was good because it was with purpose.
Wait. I lied. I also did finally chose a new book to read.
Oops.
6 comments:
I love you.
Wish I could have been there for dinner.
And your letter arrived at the perfect time.
x
Oops.
I need your wisdom in my life. Today (and every other day for that matter).
What did you cook!!!! That looks amazing and I'm sure I need the recipe!
Soul Balm. For me and for you. Your words make my heart happy no matter what weight they carry...
and dinner looks so delicious.
Looks divine. Come cook here soon. You can have the whole kitchen to yourself. I'll sit and read Hemmingway to you.
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