Planning For A Wonderful (and Ordinary) Life

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“Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.”
~ William Martin

 

A few weeks before my friend Angela died from cancer, we were texting. Angela was in a hospital palliative care ward, and I had only just been released from hospital two hours earlier after experiencing heart problems. When I received her text I was sitting at a local cafe with Ben, eating a late breakfast and reading the morning paper – my first non-cardiac ward meal in days. Finally I could eat salt and fat and sugar again! I still had my hospital ID bracelets on, and I was covered in the sticky plasters that had held the wires for my heart monitor in place.

Gee girl, she texted me, you have such a wonderful life.

Many people would not have agreed. I sure have my own problems, as most of us do. My life (except for the psychic bits) is very ordinary. My health, at times, is perfectly rotten. But Angela understood the value in my everyday world, as she stared at death and thought about all of those ordinary things that she would never do again.

Then my friend Nicole wrote this on my facebook page, in response to another recent blog post:

“I have a request for a blog post. I constantly marvel at your ability to manage your time well, even when dealing with Lyme’s. You plan your time at the beginning of the year, you have clear containers and plans for your days, and yet somehow you still manage to find the time to go to cafes and spend time with sick friends. AND you can change plans mid-stream. Meanwhile, I feel like I struggle to do everything I want to do . . . I flip-flop between being disciplined about it, and then totally wasting time because I “owe” it to myself to take a rest.”

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Mine’s not a glamorous life. I live in a tiny farmhouse, and my days are measured slowly. I often spend whole days in my pyjamas. I don’t own a flash car, or lots of bling. Those things aren’t important to me, although I’m fine with them being important to you. Each to their own. My health (thanks to Lyme disease) still limits many of my choices, even though I am moving back to wellness. My friend Nicole is right too – I change my schedule, often out of necessity, when illness flairs or if I am needed to deal with some kind of emergency, as sometimes happens in my line of work.

But my life is also beautiful. And meaningful. In the midst of too often having a flat battery and lots of major health hiccups I still manage to get things done.

Having been ill with undiagnosed Lyme disease for thirty years has taught me a few things. I can’t plan the way I once tried to in the corporate world, or the way that most success coaches and strategists advise. I need to honour my intuition, to listen to my body and to the greater guidance of the universe, and to work with strong goals metered by a massive dose of flexibility.

I have crafted a life that honours my limitations and my loves. I have found ways  to run a thriving business which takes into account the fact that I have been a semi-invalid most of my adult life, and which makes more money with me working part-time than when I worked  80 hours weeks in the corporate sector. It’s been a necessity for me to live like this. To be goal-oriented but also broken. To actually own the broken bits, as well as my continued ambition and desires in the face of all of that limitation.

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What does my life look like? I live on a farm at the back of Byron Bay. This weekend we have attended a low-key local art exhibition. No big names. No photos in the social pages. We mingled with friends, enjoyed a drink, and then sat in inviting chairs on the lawn in the late afternoon sunshine and talked about all kinds of things.

We’ve walked on the beach, drunk good coffee and eaten tasty breakfast at our favourite cafe. (Why so many breakfasts out? It’s my best time of day, I like getting out of the house and I have no stamina for most evening activities.)

I’ve napped after lunch, and gone to bed early each night.

During the day I’ve worked on my special project, messaged with loved ones and dear clients going through hard times, made vats of chai tea once the weather turned rainy, and baked more Christmas Cakes as gifts for friends.

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How did I get such a wonderful and ordinary life? I have made conscious choices based on my values and abilities (including my disabilities), and I long ago decided to be grateful for the gift of living by celebrating the small details – even as many larger things have been denied me. I plan my life, and I think about what I want and what is important to me. I work my plan, but I build flexibility, support and kindness to myself into that plan. I live mindfully as much as possible.

There’s a lot I haven’t done too, in this mindful life. I haven’t driven a car lately, because my health still isn’t good enough for that. I haven’t watched much television. (We don’t even have one at the farm!) I haven’t stayed up late much or enjoyed a wild social life. I haven’t spent hours glued to facebook or to social media. I haven’t spent time on things I don’t want to do, low value activities that don’t support my goals, or activities that make others happy at my expense.

2016 is almost here, and it’s shaping up to be an extraordinary year for shift and change. The energies of 2016 support mindful living, and consciously co-creating a richly satisfying life. It’s the best alignment of energies I’ve ever seen for launching a new aspect of yourself, a new business idea, for getting a project completed, or revitalising and re-purposing your existence. And I really want to help you make the most of that.

So that’s the secret project I’ve been working on. It’s a tool and associated support to help you to shape a life for yourself that is more meaningful and which helps you take control of the direction of your days. I’m almost finished and I can’t wait to share the details with you. If it has worked for me all of this time, I know it’s going to work for you too.

Sending much love to you! <3 Nicole xx

 

The Joy Of Ordinary

mandie

“And while it takes courage to achieve greatness, it takes more courage to find fulfillment in being ordinary. For the joys that last have little relationship to achievement, to standing one step higher on the victory platform. What is the adventure in being ordinary? It is daring to love just for the pleasure of giving it away. It is venturing to give new life and to nurture it to maturity. It is working hard for the pure joy of being tired at the end of the day. It is caring and sharing and giving and loving…”
~ Marilyn Thomsen

 

As a long-time Lyme sufferer (all my adult life and then some), until recently even an ordinary life has frequently been too much effort for me. I’ve had no energy, or no balance, or no mental cognition. Or I’ve needed to hoard my energy for more important things.

When you’re unwell and exhausted all the time, it becomes hard to be anything but resentful of things like housework. So it has been a joyful experience for me this weekend to potter around the house.

To cook. To do laundry. To tidy my linen cupboard and my kitchen drawers when soft rain fell and being indoors by the fire was cosy and happy-making.

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I’ve hiked up into the orchard to pick fruit, and made myself freshly squeezed juice with my gains. I’ve wandered through the paddocks to check on the cows and calves. Two are almost ready to give birth – one of them her first. It’s good to be close to them, and to watch over them.

mooI’ve had an outing to a local cafe where I sat under a bright cold sky and ate delicious breakfast and then held Ben’s hand, Harry Dog at our feet, as we sipped our hot drinks and huddled together against the wind.

I’ve planted out some seedlings and checked the progress of my winter vegetables.

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And I’ve spent time on my bed, cup of tea beside me and book in hand. Because I’m still tired. I still need easy days and early nights. My new treatment regime of detoxing and rehabilitation isn’t brutal like my drug regime was, but it is still taxing and taking me time to get used to.

It might not sound very exciting – this weekend of household chores and little outings. But it’s thrilling to me. After so many years of struggling, to have a weekend of ‘almost normal’ speaks more loudly than any blood test or brain scan.

I came across this poem recently, which seems to capture exactly that space I’m in. I hope you may find a little of that space for yourself and your loved ones too, this week.

Make the Ordinary Come Alive

Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is a way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples, and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.

~ William Martin

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