My neighbor shows me a photo of her grandson in his white coat and stethoscope and elates in all her glory “isn’t it so exciting?”. A friend shows me a photo of her boyfriends debut in Forbes “all that hard work paid off!”. My cousin texts me all about the sleepless nights, the hardest year, loss of so much, but “it’s all worth it, because now I have this piece of paper showing I’m a legit worker!”. My walking buddy exclaims, “We finally got a full break day after the event that broke my back, but it was a success!”
I doubt grandma is showing off photos of me and M Sol doing a whole lotta nothing on the beach. It would be kind of funny, if she did, right?
Rise and grind. Hustle till it hurts. Burn the midnight oil. Work hard, play hard. Climb the corporate ladder.
Busy and work as an addiction.
No one ever plans to “Go, go, go until I burn out”, it just happens. And you will get applauded for it, trust me.
This is what we’ve modeled, taught and passed on to the next generations. Success in the external validation, the titles and the labels.
This is the hustle and grind culture. One that we’ve grown so accustomed to, it’s our autopilot. The old paradigm.
The last remnants remain, after we pulled last years global emergency brake, we’re learning a new way.
We’re moving from human doing to human beings.
Back to ourselves.
A return and remembrance.
Around 3:30 we embark on an adventure. A slow crawl to the community garden 2 blocks away, a short ride to the park down the road. We spend three hours walking the beam, crawling the wall, sliding down into mamas arms, eating in between laughs, chasing birds and watching basketballs swish through the net.
We start the wind down around 6:30, peaceful piano plays on the speaker and lights start to dim through our home as the sun begins its goodbye.
We sleep when she sleeps, rest when care is available.
In Mexico, we would wake to bright yellowed bellied birds song and the rays of Bandera Bay. Breakfast was always oatmeal and chilaquiles, juice and all the tropical fruit you could imagine.
Pack up after breakfast then cart into the marina, five minutes away. We dig our rainbow umbrella into the sand. Sit, meditate, lay, play, watch the birds and the boats. The slower the better. Sometimes M Sol would call babies in and they would play for hours, building castles from gold specked sand and filling red and green pails with water.
Land home after a few hours and nap for days. Wake up, eat a late lunch, go outside and pool time. Sit, meditate, lay, play, watch the birds and the kiddos. Sleep on the chaise lounge. Sip on Mescal for papa if it was after 4 pm.
Adventure out again around five, cart to dinner, eat, drink and be very merry.
Aqua shower, leche, books and bed, to be asleep as the last rays of the sun say goodbye.
And in between, opportunities and experiences dance within the space of the space that is made naturally by slowing down.
We feel into each chance and choose to go or say no.
We flow in the slow and take action when it feels inspired, aligned and right on time.
Everything else is secondary and tertiary.
Thanks M Sol. Thanks to all the kids out there making waves in the world, teaching us just to be.
A little chill, a lot of rest makes for the best life yet.