Thoughts That Come With Restfulness.

It's been a restful couple of days since the beginning of Ramadan. Not without adventures of course, since I burned my face swimming in the afternoon sun and lost track of time, walking in the hot air for more than three hours. Also, I fell a little ill with a cold, and summer colds take me by surprise. Every time I think I'm going to wake up fine, I find a flood in my nose. Those days don't sound exactly restful, but they were, oh they were.

I allowed myself time to be those few days. I had things on my to-do list and private tutoring sessions but they weren't rushed. I had at least two hours for myself where I would sit down on the sofa and just read, or unwind, close my eyes for a while and wait for a poem to entice me (it never came). I must say having such an experience is profound for me, since it was hard to just sit still and be with myself. It reminds me of the quarantine, when I had so much empty time and it drove me insane. It was hard to lay down on the sofa in the evening and watch a movie without having my notebook and research papers by my side. It was hard to be in any state but doing something. It feels different to have healed that.

I'm here to talk about the fact that I still get those thoughts. After praying, I'd sit down with a gentle book to read and my heart would pound for a while. I would start thinking if I've done enough that day. I would even question if I am truly enough to be sitting down without something to do. Images of me making a mistake or failing at something would occur to my mind and I'd be tempted to walk to my desk and do something for a few minutes. It worries me at times if I'm doing well, because I still feel like a beginner in many ways, and so far away from my ideal, wise self who knows so much and executes things with so much effortlessness and ease. 

Restless thoughts would come, too. What am I supposed to be doing this summer? What should I be learning? What should I be working on? Those questions just settle in my head for a long time with no answers and if I am not compassionate enough, they drive me towards compulsiveness, which is what I want to eradicate from my mindset. 

The bright side is that those are only thoughts, and they did not get at me this time around. I'd feel my heart throb for a moment or two but return to calm it down. I tell myself that if I get to work now in that compulsive manner, then that wouldn't be inspired action, it would be work done with fear, stemming from a sense of lack and unworthiness. I don't want to do anything with fear anymore. I know the consequences well enough now. With this wave of compassion, I feel rested to complete reading, without even taking notes or doing anything extra analytical. I sit down and connect to myself, enriching the landscape of my being with attention and care.

I wonder why I feel so inadequate at times. Like, from where do those thoughts come from? Why do I suddenly feel like I'm not doing well at my job and should be doing so much more in order to excel? Why do I feel that I should be having this ongoing art project- that book to be published or handwritten poems I should be sharing with the world? Where does it come from- this strife to be bulletproof and immune to failure? It haunts me all the time.

I'm humbled by those thoughts, too. I'm grateful that the love I have for everything I want to offer and give is growing, and it pushes me to imagine ways and paths for fulfillment. I'm also humbled by not knowing how to truly start something sustainable just yet and it gives me so much relief to surrender and listen closely for signs of something new to start. Clearing the doubt and staying loving with my fears makes me see what doubt blurs and fogs. I'm sure I'll know when it is foreordained.

There are no signs yet, and so I am basking in the light of restfulness and ease. Perhaps, I would feel guilty for it tomorrow, if my plans go wrong and I end up knowing  I should have worked harder. This makes me shudder but still, I promised myself not to work with fear anymore, even at the expense of failing or losing. I don't want to ever do something without a clear, loving intention. I don't want to pretend that I'm doing something I love when in fact, I'm chasing illusionary climbs up.

I think that is why restfulness was so hard before. I could not bear to hold up with those conflicting thoughts. Finding things to do with my favourite ship of escapism, at least when I was in the action, there was not much time to truly sit down with remnants of my lack of worthiness and compassion. It was too hurtful and bitter to spend a few moments with myself. I understand it now.

I'm okay with not knowing how to give more of myself selflessly. I let this go and let it be embraced in the arms of my soul, and it shall know what to do, eventually, with unconditional, selfless love.

And that is what I truly want.