I never had ’em. At least, it seems, not as most people seem to define them. As a glorious break, a space in time where workaday responsibilities are distant and you are unfettered and unscheduled and nothing needs to get done.
Or maybe that’s the romantic mythology we’ve built around it. Hmm.
I’ve never had weekends since I began my working life. Even now, when I wouldn’t (technically) have to work weekends, I like to, because the input stream dwindles and it’s easier to focus.
I wanted to have a kind of weekly ritual, kind of like my Salon Day, but for the whole FTS community. But on the other hand, I have such a vibrant, active community that it seems like I would be creating something for forms’ sake that awkwardly replicates what’s already happening here organically. Besides that, I couldn’t find a day for it that pleased me. Which brings me to weekends.
What are they?
Until I launched my practice online, I never had weekends, and to be honest, it never really occurred to me that they were necessary. On the ranch where I was raised, you worked if there was work to do. And there was always work to do…
In high school I worked in tourism, which of course meant that holidays were out. In the oilpatch, people brag about how many consecutive days they worked. I’ve heard numbers as high as 180. (Patch-work is hard on your home life, as you can imagine). When I left the patch, I launched my practice full-time at the same time as I was trying to get a retreat centre off the ground. Days off? What are those? It’s only been since January that weekends have actually meant something to me, and even then I hardly notice.
Yesterday was my birthday.
Please, no parades. 🙂
I’m 25. (And no, I don’t feel grown up yet. Maybe at 28. More likely, 98. Most likely of all, never)
I’ve been taking stock, course correcting, and I’ve concluded I need to spend a lot more time doing nothing. Not even recreation, though I surely don’t do enough of that. I need to spend more time in contemplation. I feel this sense of burgeoning creation. There’s something in me that needs to come out, but it needs space, it needs quiet.
That’s why I couldn’t choose a day for a ritual. I need to get quiet enough to even have rituals of my own. I reread one of my very first posts, back from when this blog was just for me, and a year and a half later, I still have the same problem. I can’t find my rhythm. I’ve found my Work, I’ve found my path, and I’ve started finding my people, but I’m hoping to get that loping gait down, the one that feels effortless and eats miles.
You know? You know that groove you get in where the words fly off your fingers and shit just flows so smoothly, and even the things that look like they might be obstacles just melt away as you swoosh by?
What if Garbo had the Right Idea?
If I have one main flaw in my operating system, it’s that I don’t turn off. I might occasionally go into hibernate, but I never really shut off. I’ve developed stellar coping techniques for this constant “on-ness” but I have started to notice…wear and tear. It takes longer to rejuvenate. I have difficulty with self-discipline. I have fewer and fewer dreams (I always know when I’m getting over extended when I notice I’m not dreaming).
It has been a busy month for me, and I could tell myself that if I simply waited it out, I’ll unwind. That’s partially true, but I don’t think that it’s quite a solution. I’m still feeling my way through it, but I think there’s a lot of wisdom that I’m simply too busy to listen to, all the time.
I stayed at a monastary once. There was a bed, a sink, a table, a chair and a lamp in our rooms. Nothing else. The idea of that kind of space to fill scares me. And exhilarates me. I can feel my yearning for it, so I know I need to build some space in my life here soon. I want what will come in to fill that space.
Forgive me my self-indulgent post, but I thought it would be illustrative to show you a subtle process whereby when I noticed all the half-submerged issues that surrounded something I thought would be a good thing ( a shared ritual with you) and teased them out to recognize and articulate something I’ve been feeling my way around for at least several weeks. I actually realized that the ritual is a symbol of something I’m feeling my way toward building– a community. At least, I think that’s what’s growing inside me. Something cooperative, and compelling, a loose fellowship of people with a shared vision or purpose. Not quite sure yet, but I’ll let you know.
And now, do me a favour and go do some journalling. I’m sure there’s something niggling at the back of your brain too.