Rushed

Although Andrea originally wrote this blog during her July 2014 vacation, we think now is a great time to slow down, and practice deliberate assessment of our need for speed as we dash into the holiday flurry!

by Andrea Chilcote

I’ve been rushing a lot lately, even when there’s been no compelling need to. Given that I’ve spent 10 of the last 14 days on vacation, rushing might just be a bad habit.

When I looked up the synonyms for “rush,” I found many words that describe my demeanor. While I can’t say I’ve used all of these words, they sure describe many of my actions: hurry, dash, run, race, sprint, bolt, dart, fly, speed, zoom, scurry, scuttle, scamper, hasten, tear, belt, pelt, scoot, zip, hotfoot it, hightail it

This “problem” came into my awareness precisely because I was on vacation. From the first day, I questioned why I still felt stress, even though I was supposedly free to relax and enjoy. The very first thing I noticed was my language.

“I’ll hurry and shower (or eat, dress, pack – fill in the blank).”

“Let’s dash over there.”

“Speed up!

And I noticed other’s responses:

“There’s no hurry Andrea. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Take your time.”

“Relax. What’s the rush?”

But… did they mean it? Seriously, it’s easy for others to say “relax,” until my pace encroaches on their expectations. Did it?

Analyzing further, I realized that of late I have two speeds, high and off. Off is usually reserved for sleep. High is for everything else, and not everything requires that amount of energy expenditure. And, it sure depletes the enjoyment of simple pleasures.

Have you also experienced this? If you have a habit of pedal-to-the-metal and jackrabbit starts (and I’m not just talking about driving), what are the costs? Are you, like me, burning precious fuel?

Yesterday I began a deliberate practice of assessing my need for speed. In the last 24 hours, I have had more productive conversations and more presence. I’ve enjoyed small rewards from a slower pace, and I’m sure breathing more freely. (Oh, and I’ve still gotten a ton done).

Andrea and Whisper —Cambria, CA 2017

It’s a bit bittersweet that I didn’t embrace this lesson a week ago, while the ocean breezes blew. But I can wait for another vacation, or I can consciously embrace a variable speed commensurate with what’s required. It sounds inviting – I’ll let you know how it goes.

[Rushed originally written July 17, 2014]

Raveling

Andrea ChilcoteIn anticipation of the holiday season, we thought we would share Andrea’s ‘Raveling’ metaphor from 2013. While it’s a bit early yet, here’s a reminder to give yourself ample time to focus and reflect alongside the flurry of upcoming activities that will lead you into 2018.

by Andrea Chilcote

It was early evening on a Friday night. I replied to an email from a client, stating that I had been traveling all week and would get her what she was requesting on Monday. Shortly after hitting send, I glanced at the preview pane and noticed a typo. I had told her I had been “raveling” all week.


Raveling. Fraying. Becoming separated from the woven fabric. The truth is, I felt as if I had been slowly raveling all week, but it didn’t feel so bad. The threads of this year 2013 had been making themselves visible as lone fibers.

 

Still, the word bothered me – until I found this anonymous comment on Yahoo! answers.

“When a thread is loose, as in a novel or something complex, it’s isolated and lets you see how it works. In this case it’s good; it clarifies things. But if a loose thread leads to a tangled mess, say, in a shoelace or sweater, it complicates and confuses everything.”

I was (and still am) slowly unwinding, parsing out the priorities for the remainder of the year, looking back only to see where they fit in with the commitments that mattered, and looking ahead to determine which threads to weave and which to snip.

Oddly, that same evening my metaphor played out in an interaction with an airport store clerk. As I was hurriedly paying for my purchase, he asked: “Would you like me to clip that for you?”

“Clip what?” I replied, knowing that there were no tags attached to my water purchase.

“The string on your coat,” he said, pointing to a loose thread hanging from my sleeve.

“Sure,” I said. I handed him my arm and he neatly snipped the rogue strand of fiber.

Loose threads lead to tangled messes only when they ravel unattended. And it’s so easy to allow the many loose ends of the busy holiday season, year-end duties and 2018 plans to become a confused flurry of unfocused activities.

We have a choice. We can examine the tapestries we’ve woven and leave them to rest in their simple perfection, or snip the loose threads. We can decide what colors and fibers we’ll use to weave the art of 2018.

For me, the next two weeks will be a time of reflection, a time to ravel and examine, untangle and clarify. I’m looking forward to the peace of it. —[Originally written 20-DEC-2013]

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