Most years, I live by the adage that January is for dreaming and February is for doing, but this year, January feels like a catharsis. So far, it's been a drawn-out emotional release, a shedding of the thoughts and tightly held fears of the past three years. And now, as the month draws to a close, I've decided it's time to do away with a few things that I've identified were holding me back.
Firstly, I'm in the process of freeing myself from age-related worries. That process has begun with coming to terms with the grey hairs taking over my hairline. I'm no longer visiting the hairdresser every few weeks in a desperate attempt to cover the offending streaks of grey. I've been fighting this battle since my 30s, and I'm tired of it; it's expensive, stressful and time-consuming. If I'm honest, it became more of an issue of integrity than vanity. I spend a lot of time espousing the importance of a woman preparing herself for eldership and owning her crone wisdom. Yet, I couldn't accept the most natural ( and inevitable) sign of post-middle age- grey hair. Of course, I'm not just saying, "Hang it" and letting those wiry hairs grow willy-nilly; I'm still engaging the services of my hairdresser. Only now, instead of covering my greys, we're working together to enhance them and let the whole process be graceful. I'm surprised at how liberating this decision has felt. I'm no longer self-conscious about them, having moved past the idea that I've somehow "let myself go." I like the honesty of it, not hiding my age but celebrating my passage into cronedom. I feel I'm taking a stand against society's need to worship at the altar of youth.
But even more significant ( and challenging) than embracing my grey hair- I'm letting go of productivity thinking. The kind of thinking that has you weighing up, even on your days off, when you're supposed to be relaxing, how much you've achieved. Just yesterday, at the end of my first day off after seven straight days of work, I wondered if I'd done enough to make it a worthwhile day.
I want to be more present in each moment, more aware of what I'm sensing and noticing, instead of focusing on how much I've ticked off my to-do list. Yes, I do want to live what's commonly called a slow life, but more than that, I want to live a present and intentional life. It could be because I've reached that age where we suddenly become aware that our days are numbered. Or perhaps it's because I've survived a pandemic. Whatever the reason, I want to savour life. I want to have time to look into the faces of each person I meet, to connect with them, eye to eye, to acknowledge our shared humanity. I want to stop and identify the flowers whose scent is carried on the breeze. I want to feel the sun's heat on my skin before I rush off to find air-conditioned comfort. I want to be fully alive to my human experience instead of consumed by endless to-do lists.
And finally, I'm digging deep to root out the few remaining stubborn weeds of fear that Covid has planted within me. It's been two years of excavation; the pandemic has made a profound impact. But that's over now, and I'm letting any COVID-based fear go. I will stand in rooms full of people if that means I can enjoy music, dancing, or simply celebrating something beautiful. I will hug people enthusiastically again. I will travel far from home, putting aside my worries of snap lockdowns. I know I've held on to these fears longer than is reasonable, but when is fear reasonable?
By far, the most satisfying result of all this cathartic activity is that I'm able to dream again. After reading this wonderful article from Emily Male, I realised I'd stopped dreaming about my future. I think that's partly because, for the last two years, I've been living my work dream and partly because of, well, you know -Covid. But with both of those situations now over, it's time to start dreaming of the future I want to co-create. I have a thousand ideas, of course, and I'm letting them percolate slowly, allowing them time to develop and see which ideas capture my imagination and become sparks for my dreams. I'm sure I'll be sharing some of those sparks with you here in the coming weeks.
Before I end this correspondence, my friend, I'd like to ask you about your January. How has it felt for you? Is there anything you're letting go of? Or something you're starting?