Rain or Shine

Tuesday Tidings #29: What I did when I stopped being busy on purpose

I sit at my desk and look out the window. For the fifth (maybe sixth?) day in a row, the sky is covered in grey, the rain falls in a steady, lulling kind of way, and the air is chilly (which is why I have a sweater on…in late May!). The general vibe is like a cocoon that envelops everything—including me.

Part of me is annoyed by this seemingly never-ending wetness. Another part of me knows, intellectually, that the rain, the gloom, the sorrow, is as important as the sun, the cheer, the joy. After all, I know that to be true for my pollinator garden, the one I sit beside when the sun is out and stand next to in the light drizzle. For those plants to thrive, they need the sun and the rain. And for me, rain or shine, that garden is my happy place.

But knowing that does not make it easy for me to fully embrace the sun (joy) without worrying about the arrival of the rain (sorrow). And once I have accepted the rain as both vital and necessary, it is tempting to sink into its dark, soggy bottom, pull the covers over my head and resist its departure.

It ties in with where I have been over the last three weeks. It started when I went on vacation and slowed down, not just my activity but also my thoughts. Right on cue, the grief emerged. I traveled back in the rain and got home in the sunshine in time to do a thing after which I crashed. Not into more grief but into a surrender. Buoyed by the low humidity sunshine, and a visit from friends, I felt energized only to bump into the blazing, muggy heat of 90 degree days punctuated by thunderstorms. It felt unbearable. So much so that I wanted to do what I typically do: get real busy, real fast, in order to get myself out of this discomfort.

It goes back to something else I wrote about in the last three weeks—the need to earn it (whatever “it” might be) by doing more. To avoid addressing what that may be about, I stay maddeningly busy to avoid disappointment. In the process, I blow past things, neither celebrate the risks I take or the progress I make.

I talked a little bit about this in last week’s one-year anniversary episode of the podcast. My busyness leads to more effort (after all, it’s all on me to ensure my survival), a faster pace, and a harder push, often without a clear direction. The busyness is not a means to an end but the end itself. But when that does not lead to where I think it should, or when circumstances bring it to a stopping point, I feel the very strong temptation to quit and give up—neither acknowledge the fears, or, as I like to to call them, the “fall shorts.”

And wouldn’t you know, from the minute I hit publish on that episode, the rain started its 5-plus-day stretch, everything in me came to a screeching halt, and almost every conversation, meeting or interaction I had offered me the opportunity to not only see but also to accept this tendency of mine (to live in either the extreme of “do it all, all the time” or “do nothing, ever”) as a fact. And a choice.

Now I had a choice to make: blow past this awareness (and ignore it) or stay put (and accept it).

I chose to accept it.

Then I allowed that acceptance to inform my actions. Really, to open me up to new ways of doing things. In practical terms, I gave up my resistance to using AI as a way to synthesize large amounts of my own content. As a writer, as someone who makes things, that was a hard one for me. But when I finally accepted that there are only so many hours in the day and only so many resources available to me to get done what needs to get done so I can write and create, I relented. During my annual physical exam, I asked my doctor to help me address an ongoing physical concern with medication instead of suffering through the shame that had started to form around my inability to handle it myself.

As the rain continued to fall, relentlessly, I took its slow, steady rhythm as a cue to take other, smaller actions. To say the thing I need to say in the moment, and, when I did, to celebrate with someone else that I did something different. And when I felt disappointed by something, including myself, to own the “fall short” and admit it to somebody else that I struggle. Like each drop of rain falling into the ground, I let each moment sink in and allowed it to inform and replenish.

Not as a means to keep going, but as an inspiration to proceed…differently.

Which brings me to this space and this weekly post.

When I started it in earnest in January 2025, I had a sort of sense of what it was—first and foremost, a place for me to practice writing and expressing myself through words. As time went on, I added a podcast through which I gained more of my outside, speaking voice. And then I added more tabs (which meant more things to write or videos to make). I got real busy.

I have no regrets for any of that. Every single addition, subtraction, and rearrangement was part of the larger process of getting to here. (Spoiler alert: that process will continue over time because “here” is a moment, not an end point). Now that I am here, in this moment, I want to proceed with a much slower, more deliberate, and less impulsive approach—another way for me to choose a different next action and make it a daily practice in what I do writ large. I am aware that I have talked about this here before. But resisting change and lacking the prerequisite acceptance, I still needed to work it out of my system by trying it this way or what way (aka my way) before I was willing to surrender—not just what I do or how I do it but also how I build it.

All that to say—this space will, for all intents and purposes, remain much the way it is now. I will still post long-form memoir pieces under the tab “From the Vault,” and Tuesday Tidings will continue to be my weekly personal reflections on where I am, what’s up for me, and what I am practicing. Every week, to close things out, it will include my Tuesday Morning Meditation but not necessarily the rundown of things. And the main difference is that I will connect all that more intentionally to the podcast. Instead of running on parallel tracks, my conversations with other women and my conversations (aka monologue haha) with you about myself (which are often inspired or expanded by hearing other women share) will now be in more direct conversation with each other. Ahhhhh. Just saying here, like that, creates a sense of ease within me.

And right on cue, just as I am about to hit “save” on this post, the rain fades into the background and the sun re-emerges.

Only this time, I neither fear the joy, or escape into the sorrow. I hold both a little bit more loosely and sit with each of them.

I am in acceptance.

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Before I wrap up…where are you in the weather cycle — rain or shine? Hit reply or leave a comment.

Tuesday Morning Meditation: 5.26.25

Let things be, just as they are, where they are, so that what they are can emerge.

Coming up: Next week’s episode of the podcast begins a series of four conversations with women founders and solopreneurs…first up is my chat with Georgia Clark, founder and host of Generation Women, about the invisibility that kicks in as we get older and the importance of seeing others do the thing to know its possible for me to do the thing.

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And, if you have a story you want to share, either as a written piece or as a guest on the podcast, this space is very much open to submissions.