You know those moments in life when, in a split second, you know it will never be the same? It's almost like looking at your rearview mirror to realize the person behind you isn’t slowing down, walking down the aisle at your wedding, or even deciding at the last minute while sitting at your hairdresser that you’d like bangs. We had one of those moments when a text came in from our dog trainer that a puppy had been rescued and needed a home right away. I am not impulsive by nature but intuitively, the moment we met that precious bundle of fur, we knew she’d be ours. We also knew we would have to sacrifice much to rescue her but we did it anyway.
My husband hasn’t sat at the piano for more than a few minutes. I am finally sitting down at 7 PM on a Saturday to write my Sunday newsletter as the pup sleeps next to me. We no longer sleep in our bed together or sit on our couch. We now live in our backyard yelling “Get the stick!” or “Drop it!”. We are picnicking on our living room floor surrounded by chew toys as we try to answer work emails and keep her from drinking our coffee. Our house is in constant disarray and it feels like a miracle we’ve managed to sweep a couple of times.
All this to say, we don’t regret it.
Though my writing and the piano may grow a bit dusty these days, there is new life in our home. It may come with new challenges but what doesn’t? I may not be sitting at a computer to write regularly but I’m writing a new chapter nevertheless. My arms can only hold so much and I am not going to kid myself that I can do #allthethings. So if you have to drop something to pick something else up this week/month/year, let the damn thing drop. No guilt. No what if’s, and no bullshitting yourself that you can still run at the same capacity as usual. No one can stretch their human limitations to the max without dire consequences. Instead, we adjust to the boundaries carved into our humanity but it takes practice. Living with limitations sucks, though I find we can get better at it. We can find those small moments to tickle the ivory keys or grab my laptop during a nap.
Though I may not feel like a writer these days, I know this is the one thing I will pick up over and over. Sometimes our fear of letting things drop is that we’ll never get back to them and maybe we won’t. But let us have confidence that if it’s meant to be picked up again, it will. So I am letting my writing drop away. Not entirely, hence why you are still receiving this Substack but it won’t be at the capacity I’ve been at. And that’s okay.
We recently planted wildflower seeds all over our yard. It is exciting to see the small, fragile spouts poking up from the ground. It will be months before we get to enjoy the colors but I know they are there. I know that Courage & Candor is still here. Even as a tiny seed waiting to spring up, I have hope to see it again in full bloom.
Till then, enjoy these cute puppy photos of Lucy!
P.S. This isn’t me announcing that I am taking a break from Substack, just that my weekly rhythm may suffer a bit over the next couple of months. Stick with me. I’ll be back!
May we let things that need to drop, drop like seeds on fertile soil and find the patience to wait for full bloom.
Peace and every good,