I spent a year letting go
I didn’t try to improve
Or work harder
I didn’t go to many conferences
I didn’t speak
I just sat
I had migraines bad enough that I couldn’t see very much
And so that’s all I could do.
I worked some, but at a very different pace
I let go of pushing
I’d occasionally see posts about friends, and their big plans
New launches, and conferences, and papers
I felt joy for their new adventures
It’s great to be in the phase of growth
And yet I honor that each season has its cycle
Mine has required stillness and restraint
Sometimes trees grow beautiful flowers
Sometimes they sit in majestic silence
I’ve grown this year, in simply being able to value my non-doing self.
Because, who am I, really, if I’m not producing?
At last, I find the answer.