Best Kind of Bossy

(Milo is a fan of resting on the couch. And on the front steps in the sun.  And on my bed.  All day long. I think I could learn something from him.)

Rest

Not just for those who are weak, hurting, worn down, beaten up. Not just for those who have a doctor’s note ordering them to stay home and recuperate.

Rest is for all of us.

Especially in times like these.

So says one of my good friends and readers of this blog.

Here is one of the best things about writing these weekly musings: sometimes people write back. Now don’t feel bad if you’ve never responded. There’s no expectation of that. But occasionally folks do, and their thoughtful comments help me.

Even if they are sometimes a little bossy.

But if they are bossy, it’s a loving bossiness. It’s bossy for my own good.

I desperately need friends who are willing to speak truth to me, especially when they sense that I may be wandering off into my own little universe of dysfunction. That I might be overdoing because some phantom drill sergeant in my head is shouting out orders, commanding me to march march march, and then shrieking at me to do more. I have to keep producing, the drill sergeant in my head proclaims, if I am going to earn my place here, if I am ever going to amount to anything.

Funny, that drill sergeant voice.

I think we all have one.

It takes different forms for me. Sometimes, it looks like OCD. (Aack! There are dust bunnies under the bed. Why have I never noticed those before? They  must be eliminated, now! Oh! And look at the dirt in between the sliding shower doors! Disgusting!) Even if the dust bunnies and dirt have been there for months and I never cared about them before. Because something, for some reason (I’m tired? I just paid $60 for a tank of gas? The Supreme Court? The first major fire of the season is raging in the county next door?), went awry in my head, and suddenly that particular task was the only thing that mattered.

Walks are a good antidote for me. They help calm my inner drill sergeant. Also sitting in the yard. Emphasis on sitting. Not weeding. Not trimming. There is a hammock out there, you know, hanging between two giant redwood trees. Maybe the hammock and the trees are longing for me to visit them, too. Feeding the birds calms me. And it’s never bad to make time for an impromptu Centering Prayer session.

Friends are also crucial to helping me regain my equilibrium. You are especially lucky if you have a friend who will write you something like this, after you post something that says that you are not very good at resting and make fun of yourself for it like I did last week.

It’s possible you saw her comment, depending on when you read last week’s post.  How lucky am I that those of you who read my writing are also darn good writers yourselves?

She wrote,  “Dig out that twenty minute timer you used to have for blackberry work. It is badly needed. Stop scoffing at carpal tunnel as a mild inconvenience. If you don’t stop aggravating it now, it will soon stop you from working. Sit on the sofa, love on your pup, get bored, doze off in the middle of the afternoon. When you think of something to do, ask yourself how urgent it really is. Know that you will be ok and the weeds will still be there tomorrow.”

Yes.

The weeds will be there tomorrow.

That might be my new mantra for the summer.

I would be lost without my friends. Especially ones who are not afraid to be the best kind of bossy.