the perfunctory addiction
(explicit language used)
“Good thanks” has become the automatic response. Without a second thought, we answer the question, “How are you?” with this two-word perfunctory, closely followed by “busy” – as if we are trying to outdo one another to see who has the most going on in their life. Since when did busy become aspirational? Ants are busy. Flies seem busy. Busy lives are being advertised as fulfilling lives. But what are you busy doing?
We choose to be busy so we can avoid doing what we know we need to. We become addicted to the story of being busy. We like the way it sounds but know deep down it’s just a cover up. Underneath lies inner work waiting to be done but we talk ourselves out of doing it. We convince ourselves it’s all too hard. Like an overgrown garden, full of weeds, it seems easier to let the weeds keep growing than to put on a pair of gloves, get down on our knees, and start wiping sweat from your brow.
Besides, you’ve got so much on your plate already. It’s going to take ages to get through it all. You’ll pull out one weed and probably find three more in its place. Then there’ll be the worms, beetles, and small black things you never learned the names of. It seems too hard. It’s too cold. You’re hungry. It’s raining. You have more important things to do. You choose to do them. The overgrowth has been there so long, it may as well stay that way. You tell yourself it’s not hurting anyone.
But hidden is the most serene of gardens. Eden awaits.
Waking each morning feeling vibrant. Inviting the day to start with you. Experiencing a sense of calm and quiet euphoria. Able to settle in unsteadiness. Comfortable within discomforts. Flourishing. Eating food for nourishment. Tasting flavours. Moving freely to sounds and rhythms. Joy and equilibrium. Making the sweetest, fullest of love, in any form that pleases. Allowing it and inviting it. Never feeling as though you are undeserving of it. Each day bears gifts for you. You feel celebrated just for being yourself. You feel so loved and cared for and so you love and care for the world.
The environment thanks you for your thoughtfulness. It gives you the warmth of a late afternoon breeze. It tickles your senses. It gifts you with flowers that float down from branches. Their pungent scent perfumes the air. It lets your eyes gaze to the sky and see birds flying in unison. Your ears start hearing music, not just sounds.
You come alive and with every moment you pay attention, you are captivated. You are captivating. You start attracting wholeness into your life. Your fear is not a threat. You embrace it and know that your full sense of self is capacious for all things to reside there. There is nothing you cannot not grow from. There is nothing that can stop you from blooming to your fullest.
This is your life.
This is your Eden.
No garden comes without weeds. Stop with the perfunctory. Rethink your own busy. Choose to answer your questions with thought, not automaticity. Start deciding where your energy is going to go. Stop making excuses. Stop choosing the easy way out. Listen to your heart. Tend to your garden, no matter how overgrown. Start small. Buy yourself some new gloves. Get messy. Enjoy the process of being messy too.
Do the fucking work.
Much love to you, Annia.
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