How do you feel when you say NO?
Today I said NO. I didn’t say NO to a person or a business. I said no to myself.
Each day I have a list of tasks I deem important to make me successful as a writer, as a partner, as a neighbor, or as a citizen. I can’t say NO to these things without feeling guilty and losing sleep. Or so I believe.
But today I said NO. No to busyness. No to ‘shoulds’. No to writing the world’s next best-selling novel.
I said no to the chocolate cookies that live in the freezer. A freezer with no lock, I may add. I said no to an invitation to go for a beautiful walk in the woods. And to the laundry, to decluttering my office, and to finishing the novel on my bedside stand.
Yesterday I could not have done this. I may be retired, but I have many self-imposed to-dos and deadlines.
I have expectations of myself, and I believe, rightly or not, that people have expectations of me that I need to uphold lest the world falls off its axis.
Don’t get me wrong. Deadlines are important. Without deadlines I wouldn’t get these posts finished nor would the dog get fed. Setting intentions and living up to expectations are critical to accomplishing anything.
But recently I have lost a sense of power – and peace – in my life. It is easy to forget that accomplishment isn’t my divine purpose for being.
I have allowed “doing” to replace “being” and the result is a hollowness in my soul that echoes with lament.
Say NO and find a new rhythm
Let me tell you a story. Many years ago, when I was recovering from my first major flare-up of MS, I had doctors and therapists say to me “Ardis, you have to pace yourself!”
The thing about MS is that it is an illness that rises up unpredictably like the monster under a child’s bed. Ugly, menacing, and without warning. I had good days in which my eyes could focus and my feet weren’t stumbling. And I had bad days.
I felt like I had to do everything on a ‘good’ day because the next day may find me without enough strength to move.
Thus I lived at two speeds: fast and stop! Like a racehorse I wanted to go!
Every time I heard a professional tell me to pace myself I heard ‘pace’ as a profane four-letter word, a word that actually hissed at me.
I never replied with the four-letter words that wanted to spill out in response.
Somewhere along my journey, I must have ‘come of age’ although I can’t remember exactly when that was or what brought the change.
If you have ever listened to a four-part symphony while distracted with inner thoughts, you, too, may have moved from its energetic opening movement, through areas of dissonance, a return to slow melody and suddenly found yourself at a thrilling close and standing ovation without quite realizing how you got there.
That is life.
The thing about music is there is a certain pace to every section and it is the pacing of the notes and pauses that create the whole beautiful piece. Bingo!
I had been trying to live without pauses between notes, without any change in tempo or dynamics. My life had become a dissonant symphony that no longer resembled music. How was I to get it restored to a work of art?
PACE as a marriage partner
I found the answer in that little word “Pace”.
No longer did I hear it hissing at me. Instead, I felt it calling to me like a lover. “Come closer. Wrap your mind around me. Let me be your partner for the rest of your life.”
No longer a four-letter word, Pace became a holy word and my life changed radically.
I committed myself to the idea that by taking well-spaced pauses and varying the tempo of my life ‘until death do us part’ I could live an abundant life despite the limitations of disease, or age, or environment.
I learned to sit a little. Stand a little. Walk a little. And return to sit.
Like a great symphony, my life now has dynamics and rhythm and themes that change throughout.
Ah but, like all marriages, my relationship with this word “Pace” has at times been rocky. I don’t want to listen when I am thinking about other things.
I get excited over new lovers and go to meet them down all sorts of bunny trails.
There are at least seventeen books that await my attention, a half-dozen projects that just can’t live without my presence, albeit these are often clandestine meetings. Such is the nature of extramarital relationships.
These tantalizing distractions come at me from all angles every day.
And every day I have to learn to say NO all over again. I have a relationship with Pace that I am not willing to sabotage. And the one word – the only word – that restores that relationship when pacing gets wonky is “NO”.
Like the tortoise who won the race going slow and steady, I plan to cross the finish line with my head high because I was able to keep my commitment to Pace until ‘death us do part.’
[Photo credits by Unsplash: to-do-list by Glenn Carstens Peters; race-hourses by Pietro Mattia; violinists by Larisa-Birta; lovers by Bernard Hermant]
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