A Season of Abundance

I was asked yesterday what kinds of warning signals my body and brain send me when the first signs of overwhelm start to creep in around the edges. This seems like an important question to keep in mind as I'm gearing up to start my last year of grad school, because my productivity and effectiveness (not to mention my lovability, I'm sure) tend to take a hit when I feel overwhelmed. The last few weeks of my summer have been intentionally just a little slower, a little more full of the things that I love, and a little less cluttered with the things that aren't supportive or aligned with my values and goals -- so it's worth taking a moment to think about how I might maintain this sense of spaciousness and calm as obligations, projects, and deadlines start to pile up.

After thinking for a moment, I realized that for me, the first signs of overwhelm are variations on the theme of scarcity: I'll never have enough time, I don't have enough money, I didn't get enough sleep, I don't have enough love, touch, opportunity, order, clarity, skills... Sometimes, after I've worked myself into a state of panic about how scarce everything seems to be, my ability to prioritize diminishes and I end up doing laundry or spacing out online instead.

So this term, as I head into a full load of classes, a calendar full of trainings and practicum, a looming thesis, a wonderfully supportive, aligned, and thrilling new partnership, the continuation of many friendships and connections that I want to sustain and grow, a list of exciting personal projects, and a commitment to ongoing self care, I'm setting an intention for spaciousness, for enough-ness. I intend to remember that doing the work of filling my life only with things that bring me joy, inspiration, and growth does me little good if I don't also create the space to savor them. I'm looking forward to a season of abundance.

"Titus" Pot-bellied pig surrounded by food by Charlsey Cartwright
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/223068987769406287/