Oh, I felt this in my bones. I, too, have been befriending crows in my neighborhood. Their presence and (dare I say) friendship has been revelatory. It's reminded me that there is so much to notice around me, that there is so much big life happening in the everyday. Entire stories spooling outward. But we have to get quiet, be patient, to know where they're leading us.
I set myself a deadline for a writing project but all the seasonal razzmatazz got in the way and I was annoyed with myself. During a few days away last week I realised just how exhausted I am and that I’m not a failure but deliberately taking this end of year slowdown to regroup and create better work when refreshed.
Oh, how I needed to read this. As I've made small bits of progress on my memoir, I notice that life keeps bringing me more opportunities to get distracted from the work and I keep saying yes because I want to learn and engage. For the last month I've been feeling I need to hit pause on new things for the winter and let myself rest in the quiet with my ideas and my questions so I can be with them fully instead feeling rushed and squeezing it in where I can, my mind on ten other things at the same time.
Thank you, Lindsey. I've been struggling with the decision whether or not to take a demanding writing class in the new year. You've reminded me that patience and slowness can be as productive as speed, perhaps more so. XO
I too know when something is evolving, is not there yet, needs time - but I long for your state of peace and acceptance of this, Lindsey. Too often I go into a spiral of self doubt!
Beautiful Lindsey. So glad I read this today. Thank you for the reminder. I’m currently in a season of ‘creative gestation’...coinciding with, and no doubly closely related to, the fact I’m also in a season of mothering a toddler and baby! Have to keep leaning in to a trust in all that I want to create, and all that I don’t even know I want to create yet, and all the things
that are currently half-formed in my imagination. Having to trust too that there is time, and actually most of these things require just that anyway xx
This is such a timely piece for the dark days of winter. Outside my window the nearby mountain has wrapped itself in a blanket of cloud and the heavy rain tells me to slow down. This fallow season is a good tome to enjoy the stillness.
Thank you for this beautiful reflection, Lindsey. I've been writing about the experience of stepping outside the routines I've created to see what'sthere for me. This was right in sync. 🙏
I loved this, Lindsey, thank you for sharing it. I'm also hungry for the slow-down, for the noticing - even as I seem to corner myself as far from both as possible. Reading about your crow-observations, and the general theme of this piece made me think of Jenny Odell's How to Do Nothing - it's the second time this week the title has wandered across my mind, and feels so apt for this conversation, so I'm taking it as a prompt to revisit.
This feels so true to where I am right now. Slowing the pace and exploring the placement of things side by side. Thank you.
Hoping it's a joyful process for you!
Wishing you slow wonder and the space for it to arrive ✨
Beautiful. Thanks for this.
Thanks for reading, Paul!
Hey I just subscribed but I thought I already was signed up! Xx
So happy to have you here, Julie!
Oh, I felt this in my bones. I, too, have been befriending crows in my neighborhood. Their presence and (dare I say) friendship has been revelatory. It's reminded me that there is so much to notice around me, that there is so much big life happening in the everyday. Entire stories spooling outward. But we have to get quiet, be patient, to know where they're leading us.
Now I want to put together an anthology on revelatory crow friendships!
ooooooh YES!
I set myself a deadline for a writing project but all the seasonal razzmatazz got in the way and I was annoyed with myself. During a few days away last week I realised just how exhausted I am and that I’m not a failure but deliberately taking this end of year slowdown to regroup and create better work when refreshed.
I often forget to factor seasonal razzmatazz into my December plans!
Oh, how I needed to read this. As I've made small bits of progress on my memoir, I notice that life keeps bringing me more opportunities to get distracted from the work and I keep saying yes because I want to learn and engage. For the last month I've been feeling I need to hit pause on new things for the winter and let myself rest in the quiet with my ideas and my questions so I can be with them fully instead feeling rushed and squeezing it in where I can, my mind on ten other things at the same time.
Have you read Wintering by Katherine May? It is such a beautiful reminder of the power of rest.
Thank you, Lindsey. I've been struggling with the decision whether or not to take a demanding writing class in the new year. You've reminded me that patience and slowness can be as productive as speed, perhaps more so. XO
And then the writing coach in me is like... but would it be a nice challenge?
Ha! (as I plug my ears and repeat "lalalalalala")
I love this so much. It’s the perfect vibe for this solstice time of the year. “Even the planets slow down.” Thanks Lindsey. 🥰
Thanks for reading, Sarah!
I too know when something is evolving, is not there yet, needs time - but I long for your state of peace and acceptance of this, Lindsey. Too often I go into a spiral of self doubt!
Beautiful Lindsey. So glad I read this today. Thank you for the reminder. I’m currently in a season of ‘creative gestation’...coinciding with, and no doubly closely related to, the fact I’m also in a season of mothering a toddler and baby! Have to keep leaning in to a trust in all that I want to create, and all that I don’t even know I want to create yet, and all the things
that are currently half-formed in my imagination. Having to trust too that there is time, and actually most of these things require just that anyway xx
This is such a timely piece for the dark days of winter. Outside my window the nearby mountain has wrapped itself in a blanket of cloud and the heavy rain tells me to slow down. This fallow season is a good tome to enjoy the stillness.
Thank you for this beautiful reflection, Lindsey. I've been writing about the experience of stepping outside the routines I've created to see what'sthere for me. This was right in sync. 🙏
I loved this, Lindsey, thank you for sharing it. I'm also hungry for the slow-down, for the noticing - even as I seem to corner myself as far from both as possible. Reading about your crow-observations, and the general theme of this piece made me think of Jenny Odell's How to Do Nothing - it's the second time this week the title has wandered across my mind, and feels so apt for this conversation, so I'm taking it as a prompt to revisit.
Glad to hear it resonated, Joe! What a gift to be somewhere that allows you to be so in tune with the seasons. Wishing you a happy solstice.