When I Write My Whole House Is Nourished

These days of working from home have given me the opportunity to spend time thinking about what I really want to do with my life. When I began to work from home around mid-March, I soon realized how quickly my eight-hour workdays were passing. Never enough time to do everything I wanted to accomplish in a day. And, what happened to the joy of taking a day off? I mean, calling in sick for a lovely self-care day at a spa or some lovely little hideaway just seems so useless when every day presents the very real possibility that tomorrow, I could catch the virus. This is a pandemic. Sickness feels like it’s everywhere and so I need to practice self-care every day in as many ways as possible. There is no “calling out” sick. I believe many of us are finding that our world is sick, has been sick for a long time, and rather than succumb to a few crumbs, a few hours of “approved time off” we must step outside that narrative that tells us that we can only care for ourselves when others determine it is ok.  

I write this as the daughter of a woman who didn’t have the luxury of paid time off. When my mother - a maid for wealthy/greedy colonizers of Palm Beach – wanted to take a day off she did so in one of two ways: took it without pay or took it while at their homes. She especially loved the latter. A crafty woman, she got most of her leave time during the warmer months when they had returned to their northern residence. At first, I didn’t understand why she bothered at all to go to their homes when they were not in town but soon, I realized why: self-care. Rather than stay at home with seven children running about a tiny, two-bedroom apartment, my mother spent her summer months vacationing in Palm Beach. It was nothing for her to call us reminding us of “what better be done” when she got home while she herself lounged by “her” pool sipping a Pepsi. Her rest was only occasionally interrupted to give one of the gardeners instructions or to receive some package. Whatever the struggles my mother had as a maid – and there were many – she taught me the lesson of making sure I took care of my needs even when others would deny me. Like her, I’ve never had to break a law or harm other people to get my needs met.  

What are my needs? What kind of person do I want to be during this pandemic and after it is over? Supporting the well-being of others in my life and beyond my immediate family have always been important but are much more urgent now. I admit, it’s a balancing act at times. I’ve resolved that I simply cannot and really should not attempt to wrap my arms around the world. Better that I collaborate with others for others. On the other hand, getting my needs met right now means trying to spend time during the day envisioning, creating and improving my surroundings, my mind, body and spirit. It means determining precisely what areas of my vocation bring me joy and those areas that are drudgery but nonetheless provide me with the means to lounge and sip sweet wine. Being aware of these things is helping me be better in my work and other areas of my life.

This first blog (the others were reprints) and this new website emerges from my hours of self-care. I have promised myself to write and to do so as often as possible in soothing spaces. Today, it is in the cool of the evening as I watched the birds fly above, listening to fountains waters and the occasional sound of motorcycle engines as drivers race down the open road. Having the space and motivation to write is my elixir in the midst of the sheer madness and evil machinations of our nation’s political leaders. May the writer’s words survive, thrive and bless.