I sat this morning drinking my tea, my delightfully iridescent bird-adorned journal (some things will always make me kind of giddy-happy, like iridescence, especially iridescent pink, and thunderstorms, and white hydrangeas), and my favorite pen in front of me. Dim, overcast, slightly blustery light, that I somehow still find cozy and warm, flooded my spot at the table from the right, and from the left. I could see the haggard branches of would-be-green bushes, dead leaves swirling in the small wind, modest puddles of cold water on the concrete path leading away from our patio, and tarp-covered barbecues waiting for spring, or a brave chef.
I felt like writing, which is to say I felt like praying. The two have become intertwined since I started to journal as a means of encouraging my habits of prayer and meditation. But I couldn't quite clear through the superficial fog in my eyes to get to the deeper stuff. Like the jewel-blue sky you know is anchored radiant and true behind those persistent clouds, omnipresent, yet inaccessible, try as you might.
So I sat. And drank tea. And stared at the bare branches of our blueberry bush that produced an entirety of seven berries this last summer. I thought about the time and that I actually love being awake and drinking my tea in quiet a good two hours earlier. I let my feet dangle in the warmth of the heater gushing hot air from the wall behind my chair. I thought about how I had stayed up a good two hours later than I really needed to; my body had started checking out long before I actually got up to get my tired head to bed. I drank more tea.
And then as I admired the grain of the birch wood making up our tabletop I found a little bit of magic in having just let myself be. Those tenacious clouds parted even if for only a glimpse of true blue.
I wondered if I practiced listening to my body's cues for things like sleeping if I would in fact practice the discipline of listening to my soul's promptings for prayer, of insight, or the realization of questions. And thus began a few journaled pages of musings on awareness, clarity of vision, purposefulness, striving for excellence, and diligence, among other things, coherent and otherwise.
Anything resembling profound conclusions in universal terms in those pages are a bit mired in my own half-formed thoughts and understanding, as if that's any surprise, but I did realize a few things about myself. Things that, should I remember them and perhaps implement them, I might in fact encounter a bit less mental cloud-cover.
I love quiet contemplative mornings that give me a few moments to write and look out at the current state of things, and drink tea. I'd be happier if I could do this quite early in the day.
I am most strongly inspired by study during the mid-morning and early afternoon hours. My mind feels alert, clear, inquisitive, and ready for work.
I like to write during this time, recording my reflections, capturing excitement as best as I can.
Emotional, slightly intense, base-y music fuels this mood and readiness to focus. My husband has a Spotify playlist called "Epically Focused Work." That about does it.
I like to be active around my home in the early evening, making dinner, spending time playing with my family, caring for our son's needs and health, and generally reinforcing a sense of harmony, productivity, and beauty.
Later in the evening, I like to have attained a sense of accomplishment with my day's time such that I can relax a while, multi-task on some chores if needed, but otherwise absorb a story, whether by way of a book or show.
Though, I recently realized there's this untapped magical set of hours in which I could study with others! From about 9-11, my son is asleep, and my friends, with or without children are potentially also available. This is BIG, folks. I could arrange a weekly night for this purpose. A standing date. Whether anyone else can come or not.
The idea above made me realize again how much scheduling commitments with others makes it much more likely that I will follow through on something like "study", a mandate often too vague to feel motivated about come after-dinner hours.
I feel most accomplished when my list of to-dos serves as a reminder rather than a strict guideline. Trying to get exactly all seven things done in a day feels less important than remaining genuinely productive the day through. Often, when I can be attentive to my energy levels and respond accordingly, I actually accomplish more than what my initial list set forth, even if some of the precise activities differ from that list.
However, estimating the amount of time an activity should take me with as much accuracy as I can muster increases my productivity immensely! This is a gem of a habit. It takes 10-15 minutes, and probably saves hours of time otherwise lost to distraction, ambivalent focus, and the expectation that one task will take more time than it might actually require.
As a result of this list I find myself striving and praying for more mindfulness about my unique triggers for enthusiastic productivity, a sense of purpose, discipline, and an attitude of joy, but also with flexibility, and detachment.
What have you learned about your unique best practices for productivity? How do you remain mindful and aware of your body's and soul's cues?
