When quarantine first began, four score and several Netflix binges ago, I remember having a significant thought when trying to focus on the positives. It was a frustrating time for many reasons, but this particular meltdown was due to the fact that I had cancelled four consecutive trips that had promised to make my summer the most eventful one yet. I remember pouting and thinking that all of my tourist blog research to find the best latte in Nashville was all for naught. Mid-pout, I caught myself thinking, do I even know the best latte in my own city?
You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this trivial insight into my mind, but fear not, we’re getting there. I sat, dumbfounded, wondering how much else I’ve been missing in my own zip code. Granted, the very reason all of my trips were cancelled was because of a virus, so not all of the usual entertainment options were on the table here. Closed restaurants and occupancy limits didn’t deter me, however. I was determined to have a delicious and beautiful summer, and that I did.
I found out that there’s an amazing coffee shop that grows all of its’ own produce and grinds its’ own beans only a short drive away from my front door. I found smoothie bowls that looked like they came straight from a Los Angeles foodie blogger’s Instagram page. I found a local gem that makes authentic Dutch food and realized that Dutch pancakes might be better than American. I found out that the most breathtaking sunsets are painted in the sky above the field right behind my parent’s house.
(I swear, not all of my epiphanies are about food)
After a summer of DoorDash deliveries, long walks, and my continuous coffee tour of Springfield, I feel contented. I may not have logged the miles that I had originally planned, but that’s okay. If I hadn’t had my nose buried in Pinterest, figuring out the best photo locations in Eureka Springs, I might not have walked past all of the beauty right in front of me for so long.
As I was sitting last weekend with a belly full of locally made Portobello Ravioli, my mind slipped into one of its’ frequent and unnecessary analyses of the world around me. I was thinking of how different the picture of my year looked than the reality of it, but how they both were so beautiful. I couldn’t imagine trading some of the memories I’ve made by a quiet fireside with my people these past few months, not even for the best life music on Broadway Avenue.
Somewhere along the winding road of my mind, I started to think about how there is a strong parallel between the picture of my summer and the picture of myself when I conjured them both up at the beginning of the year. They were supposed to be glamorous, busy, full of life and a blur of excitement and achievement.
Fast forward to mid-August, and now all of the goals I set and the trips I had planned are all full of postponements and cancellations due to the current state of the world and the fact I can’t leave the area without quarantining for fourteen days.
As a goal-oriented person, New Years’ is like Christmas for me. Not because of the free champagne at the club (at least not anymore), but because of the new beginning. When I sit down with the new planner that I will inevitably get for Christmas every year and a smooth pen, I feel like I’m eight years old again and Santa just asked me what I want this year. Except it’s me, asking myself:
“What do you want this year?”
At the end of December 2019, I could think of a lot of things I wanted. Just about every interest of mine had a lofty goal tied to it. I had financial goals, creative projects, fitness milestones, you name it. I had the list typed, printed, and pasted in the inside of my journal so I could renew my motivation every morning. I was going strong until… you know the story. Suddenly, the majority of my goals went from being something challenging but attainable, to something that wasn’t even remotely feasible for this year.
I know that as far as this year goes, I was pretty lucky. I didn’t have to postpone a wedding, I didn’t lose a job, I have a healthy family and a cozy apartment to quarantine in. Don’t mistake this as me taking my immense blessings for granted. BUT- I’m going to complain anyways.
For me, losing my goals was like losing my compass for life. Without being able to follow my action plan (which was also typed, printed, and pasted on the inside of my planner), I wandered aimlessly through the first few weeks of quarantine. Each goal was so carefully curated and planned and worked towards, that the prospect of having to even postpone it for a year was devastating.
Fast forward from April to now, mid-August. I’ve still been doing a lot of aimless wandering. I’ve set smaller, more short-term goals for the meantime, but nothing groundbreaking. Nothing to get my compass back.
I’ve struggled a lot. I can barely sit through a movie without needing to have a secondary task or losing interest. This slower pace of life that should be a blessing to our overstimulated and overworked society felt like a pillow held against my face. I couldn’t breathe. Everywhere I went, there was a constant nag at me, reminding me of what I should be doing or what memory I should be making. The milestone I should have hit on the road to crossing an item off my goal list. I was restless, fidgety, grouchy, crotchety, just generally unpleasant. I couldn’t find peace in my own mind when there was a constant itch to just be doing more.
It hit me, right in the middle of that Portobello Ravioli.
Maybe I’m just defining more wrong. I wanted to be going on more trips, and attending more networking functions, and planning more events, and going to the gym more often, and seeing more of the world.
Maybe, just like I overlooked the Dutch pancakes, I am overlooking something I’ve been missing out on this whole time. My travel bug kept me so keen on trying the food made in other cities that I never stopped to consider that there might be a hidden gem only minutes away from me. My need to do and be more kept me moving at such a breakneck speed that I never stopped to realize what beauty can come in the stillness.
Maybe, for this season, I don’t need to have my eyes glued to my compass, intent on pushing through the forest of achievement. Just maybe, if I look up from the compass and look around me, I’ll find a place that’s worth staying for a while.
In this place, I’ve heard my Grandpa’s war stories that I never bothered to ask about before. I finally convinced my little brother to let me take his picture (ladies, thank me later). I stayed up until 4am talking about everything with the love of my life, because for once, we had nothing to do the next day and we could. I did a puzzle with my Momma (and soon realized I despise puzzles) and sat under the stars with my Dad. I watched a friend dive so deep into her relationship with Jesus and saw so many beautiful moments along her walk that I never would have if I kept on at my breakneck speed. I learned to love my bare skin. I filled pages and pages and journals and journals of prayers, thoughts, frustrations, and nonsense. All written in the cursive that I’ve finally had time to perfect (for the most part).
It tugs on my heart to think of all of the sweetest moments I would have missed if life had just gone according to plan.
I regret all of the spring nights I went to bed huffy and angry that I had yet another cancellation, yet another disappointment. I wish I had taken the time to see that every empty space that was created was a space that God was going to fill with more love and simple beauty than I ever could have defined in my planner.
As ready as I am to put all of this years’ chaos behind me, I hope I never stop pausing to look around me. Charging ahead has its’ place in life, but no goal is so important that the journey shouldn’t be enjoyed as well. I wish someone would coin a phrase to capture that, something like ‘pause to admire the foliage’ …?
I am still working every day on being okay with this new pace of life. I still daydream about booking the first flight as soon as it’s safe to do so, and my bucket list will probably keep growing. But, thanks to the loveliest combination of quarantine and a pasta-induced deep dive into my own subconscious, I am learning to look for the beauty in the now, not the next.
“Doing nothing often leads to the very best of something.”
– Winnie the Pooh
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