Sundays are magical to me. They are the rainbow after a rainstorm, crocuses in Spring, caramel on a Sundae; they are cheese fondue, hazelnut chocolate, creme broulee. They are bright and sparkling and all mine. They are days of rest, days of alone time, days to catch up, days to get out running or be with friends, days to dream, days of faith, days to meander, putter, or fill with activity.
What can I say? I LOVE SUNDAYS. My work week is Tuesday to Saturday. Sunday is the beginning of my weekend. I work at a lovely, fun, social, interactive and community-focused public library. When you work in a creative, book-filled public space in a vibrant community, energy is constant: energy we are giving out, energy we are taking in and absorbing, energy that sparks and spurs us on in creative ways. Also, through my week, I am involved in my community house activities, running group, and other social-creative avenues like blogging, all which are life-giving and bring joy.
However, when I wake up on Sundays, as an introvert (with a capital I) who needs downtime to process so many emotions, thoughts, and a very large inner life, and I wake up warm in my cozy duvet, sun shining through my curtains, and my cat nuzzling and murmuring at my door, and I realize I am not in any rush to get up, and the day lies ahead of me like the green fields of a magical Hobbit adventure, I am quite honestly elated: excitement, relief, happiness, and most of all, plans! So many plans. Once the quiet sleepiness wears off, I want to do everything. And nothing. And all that lies between.
I would give anything for more time.
Time to me is the most precious commodity we have. If there was a way to buy extra time in a 24-hour-day, I would invest in that. And while I love my week job, I always dream and long for more time off, longer weekends, days with more hours. Over the next several hours, for example, I will be blogging, running some hills, going to music practice, joining my Sanctuary London community this evening… it’s do-able in the time that I have.
However, at any given moment, if I had more hours in the day, here are all the other things I’d love to fit in somewhere: finish editing another photo shoot, take my camera on a walk, write the poems that are always living in my head, sit down with my newest Mary Oliver poetry collection, work on my social media accounts as they pertain to my blog, follow up and comment on so many happy and sad stories on Instagram right now, including the family grieving their beautiful three-year-old Alby, spend time with animals (horses, goats, dogs), check in with my friends who I know are struggling with anxiety and loneliness, work on my newest online course (details to come), spend more time running, add songs to my running play list, prepare some breakfasts ahead for the coming week, do laundry, plan my flights to BC for May, finish sorting files and setting up my office space, declutter some drawers, lacquer my side table, get pine shelves for my neighbour next door, nap with my cat, start knitting a new scarf in some soft grey wool, take a road trip to Pelee Island and the Lake Erie summer driving route from beach to beach, and so many other places I want to see, and above all, find some hours to just sit, stare out the window, watch the clouds, pray and dream and relax my mind. Also, time to love myself, time to love others, time to hope, time to fight for things I believe in. And time for wonder.
I want to do all this today. All now. All at once. I love all of these ideas, and I feel passionate about doing each of them. But where to start? To do all this would likely take about 60-80 hours or more. I have about eight to ten hours in one Sunday. I am so grateful for the time I have. And I still dream for more.
So how do we make the most of every minute, and also take it slow and savour every minute? How do we live in slow motion when the world spins around us and there is so much to do? How do we not miss out, and also purposely miss out, so that we have the time with ourselves we need? Please comment below if you want to share your own ideas or experiences. For now, what I know for sure, is that he hills are awaiting my running, the music practice is awaiting my participation, and my friends are awaiting my presence this evening at church, just as I am awaiting them.
I am lucky. I am blessed. There is at least enough time in this one moment to recognize how much.