“When you're young, you always feel that life hasn't yet begun—that "life" is always scheduled to begin next week, next month, next year, after the holidays—whenever. But then suddenly you're old and the scheduled life didn't arrive. You find yourself asking, 'Well then, exactly what was it I was having—that interlude—the scrambly madness—all that time I had before?”
- Douglas Coupland
I used to worry that time was running out. I think it’s a function of the brokenness that manifested itself in my destructive behaviours and an ongoing dedication to a decade long downward spiral. But it’s also a function of our modern lives; we’ve made everything so convenient and so instantaneous that we feel as though it must be that way. We feel as though we have to rush through everything.
And the truth is - yes, we do have a limited amount of time on this earth. We do have a limited amount of time to spend on the people, the ideas, the places and the things that we love. But that time still stretches out, beautiful and full and ready for us to enjoy it. I believe there is always time, if we let ourselves stop and step away from the madness. If we let ourselves press pause on the whirlwind and stop chasing storms.
There’s always time to be us, and feel what we need to feel.
All my love,
Be with the people you love. Be with them in person, if you can. Call them, if you can’t. No human being is meant to be an island. No human being is meant to live entirely in solitude. Love is there to be shared.
Try to be a little slower this week. Don’t rush into things. Don’t rush your tasks. Don’t be so quick to finish things. When we slow down, we can feel our own breath and the power it lends to our lives. When we slow down, we can actually be alive.
Get some sleep darling. You don’t need your beauty sleep - you’re fucking beautiful as you are - but you do need enough sleep that you aren’t dead on your feet. Sleep is a necessary element of your life, not a liability or a chore. Lean into it.
For Your Spellbook Journal
For today’s journal, write about your favourite memory from your childhood. Describe it, in as much detail and with as much joy as you can muster. I know so many of us come from pain. But it’s worth celebrating the roots of our present day joy, too.