Lie down in peace #CTST

Over the years, at different stages, during the various seasons of life, I have had many sleepless nights. However, the 'many' pales in comparison with the majority in which I have slept soundly. Even in the midst of some emotional trauma (separation and divorce being one of, if not the worst), I have been blessed with sleep.

Sleep is a gift.

Every one knows the importance of sleep and rest, but for many people thorns of anxiety prevent sleep. I know it. I've felt it. When I lie down to sleep, but my mind will not shut down despite the weariness of my body. How do you turn off the mind? How do you shut out the worry? The fear? How do you close the door on anxiety when it feels like an incurable infection?

Three words have been running around in my head for days now. Since I had the noisy church dream through which God gave me a word of encouragement, I have begin to filter out all the voices in my mind. Especially those which cause me to doubt and to worry unnecessarily. There is only one voice I need to listen to...the voice of Truth.

What are these three words? Let it go.

I'm reminded of a line in a Creed song. "The sun shines and I can't avoid the light. I think I'm holding on to life too tight."* Sonny Sandoval from POD sings, "I think the hardest part of holding on, is letting it go."* This is a great paradox.

I sleep in peace. If I can let go of anxiety or at least not hold on too tightly to what I have, I believe I can walk in peace as well. I thank God for the gift of sleep.

*Goodbye for now - POD
*Weathered - Creed

A Welcome Forgetfulness

From the moment I said good-bye at the airport on August 5 to begin the new Darwin chapter of my life, I began dreaming of my return home for Christmas. As hard as I tried to not wish my life away, I could not resist the emotional pull of family and familiarity. And so, it was with joyful expectation that I counted the months, the weeks, the days and finally the hours until I packed my suitcase and headed for the airport.

It is said that three weeks is an ideal length of time for a holiday. The first week is winding down, the second relaxing, and the third gearing up. I haven't had enough holidays of more than a couple of days duration to properly test this theory, and this time has not been at all normal, but I'm beginning to feel something. Today is day 10 of my holiday-the half way point, and a vague forgetfulness is creeping over me.

The alarm has not, but once, rudely interrupted me from slumber. I have driven my XR6, which I missed, everywhere I needed to go, but the imperative to go has diminished. I eat and drink whatever I want whenever I want - late dinners, early lunches, multiple lunches. Planning for the day happens that morning or maybe the night before. I don't exercise except for spontaneous walks around the beach at Kiama or bicycle rides. There is nothing I have to do. No place I have to go.

I can almost not remember that I live in Darwin, that I have a job there and that I don't know when I will return home for good. The memory of strict routines, buses, gym work outs and continually oppressive heat have faded. The loneliness, and the symptoms of Hug Deprivation Syndrome have disappeared. I feel lazy and unenergetic, and I'm happy to go with that because I am on holiday. I can almost forget that I'll never see my dad again.

It's a beautiful sunny morning. We'll probably go to the beach, but we don't have to. I'll watch some more cricket on TV, swimming in the languid sea of rest, falling all over the lounge in various positions of repost. I might even have a beer before lunch. I don't have any real plans. I'm in week 2 of my break, and I feel calmer than I have for quite some time. To achieve this tranquility means choosing to forget, but not in the sense of not remembering; it's more like letting go.

Photo sources:
http://www.qantasnewsroom.com.au/media-releases/qantas-dreamliners-symbolise-new-era-for-national-carrier/
http://www.illawarramercury.com.au/story/2980957/sharks-spotted-feeding-in-kiama-photos/mer/
http://www.kotaku.com.au/2014/04/the-big-question-winter-or-sum

Celebrate the small things: Life's little pleasures

I work late on Fridays because I have so much marking to do, and I also need to prepare for the following week's class. When I finish work, I head into town for my Friday grocery shop, and I return via the bottle shop, here in Parap, where I purchase my reward.

Life is full of little pleasures, little treats: a rest, a break, a reward. I am not even close to being a workaholic. Work has never been my priority. I enjoy work, and I am not lazy, but I work to live, not vice-verca. The beer and the nuts reward is just one of the many ways I chill in order to keep as calm and relaxed as possible. 

Chilled is not my normative state. I'm inclined to be a worrier, and a stress head, but as I sipped my Boag's draught from the beer stein my son bought for me when he was in Germany, and chewed on those crunchy, salty nuts, I was thinking about nothing except the pleasure those things were giving me.

Celebrate the Small Things: Tonsils

I had to take the day off work today because I was feeling unwell, particularly my throat which had caused me a sleepless night. I'm doing a practicum with a Year 3/4 class at a local primary school as part of my Master' degree, and I figured my illness was best kept at home with me. Not to mention the fact that my voice-an important tool for a teacher-was not operating well.

The doctor gave me mini lecture about the evils of smoking before diagnosing tonsilitis, and prescribing rest, fluids and antibiotics. I really wish, as an aside, that we could write our own prescriptions. That would have saved me time money and rescued me from another well intention sermon on the perils of tobacco. Anyway...

Today I am grateful for the day off, although obviously not stoked about being ill. The practicum, now 15 days old with 5 to go, has been very taxing, especially emotionally. Maybe that's why I got sick.

The point is, I think, that rest is important, and I'm happy to have a extra day tacked on to my weekend for just that purpose.

By the way what is the purpose of those little things called tonsils?

This blog is a part of Celebrate the small things blog hop. Want to join in? Visit the website for the rules, and post  a little note of gratitude every Friday.

The Art of Rest

Must have been the sun, or perhaps the emotional intensity of the occasion. Or it could have been the large striker who elbowed me in the chest and left me wondering whether I had suffered my third occurrence of rib breakage. More than likely it was a combination of all three that left me feeling very washed out. Considering the lack of sleep I subsequently got on Saturday following an early morning return from the footy, it was unsurprising that I needed a 'chill out and do nothing' Sunday afternoon.

Clearly my self discipline is failing - in a number of areas - but I could not deny myself an afternoon on the couch watching Star Trek, and later listening to heavy metal band, The Ghost Inside. I did nothing but rest. Good on me.

L is for Lazing About

L is for Lazing Around

“After a week of lounging around his apartment, watching movies, eating and drinking too much, Mark decided he needed a change of scenery. The prospect of a long rest with nothing to do, no place to be, no uniform to wear, and no orders to follow had seemed very appealing until boredom gate crashed his party.

He rolled over and stared at the clock. It was six thirty, and so far, his longest sleep in. He stayed in bed longer than he needed to because there was no reason to get up. He was supposed to be recuperating so his indolence was entirely justified but it troubled him, nonetheless. He tossed himself around on the bed, as much as his broken ribs would allow. The odd twinge was all he experienced now. He banged his hand against the bed, then against the pillow. Then he let it fall rather than thrusting it down. He squeezed his hand, bent his legs.”   from chapter 6, Ashmore Grief

If you are an active person, if your life is full of numerous activities and responsibilities which  demand your attention, your time and your energy, then you need a vacation. If you are such a person who frets over time wasted, and the inefficient use of resources then you need to chill. You push hard to cram as much as you can into your twenty four hours whilst always wishing for an extension, and you need to achieve your goals, to get things done. You have a to do list, and you motivate yourself with self improvement quotes. You love to work. Paid work, voluntary work, any sort of work. You are always on the go, and you can find time for everything.

It makes me tired just thinking about it. Rest is severely underrated by people like you, and I know because there is a little bit of you in me. I’m fighting it because I don’t want to live life at one hundred miles an hour. I don’t want to be so driven that I cannot enjoy anything. Cliche alert: I want to be able to stop and smell the roses. I’m learning to relax. I’m learning to appreciate quietness and slowness.

Take a vacation, and if it’s been a while since your last one, then make it a long one. Unwind. Relax. Enjoy. It may be very difficult, as it was for Mark in Ashmore Grief, who liked the idea but found the practice of rest uncomfortable and unsatisfying, but please try. If you work hard, you deserve rest. Don’t begrudge yourself this simple pleasure.

Photo source:

http://benralston.blogspot.com.au/2010/05/relaxation-1-what-is-relaxation.html

Fingers to the Bone

Are you working too hard? Many people are. A caller to a talkback radio station boasted he had worked everyday for three years, getting up at 4am and arriving home between 11pm and 1am each night. Having recently taken a month long break he said he was now back in the groove and had reached another 106 days consecutive days of labour.

The radio announcer, himself also employed for seven days a week albeit with shorter hours than the caller, was very impressed and praised this 50 year chef by calling him an inspiration.

A slightly inebriated businessman caught a taxi home from the pub one night and was lamenting the break down of his marriage. He warned the taxi driver with these words. 'I worked my guts out for seven days a week year after year to provide for my family, to give them everything they ever wanted. But mate,' he said, 'All they ever wanted was more of me.'

The taxi driver had already determined not to let work dominate his life, but perhaps the businessman and the chef should have a chat.

Work has become a god to many people. There is a difference between working to live and living to work. When a man spends the majority of his waking hours for most of his life doing a job which he doesn't enjoy but feels he has to do in order to live, then he is a slave.

There are many slaves in our society who need to receive Jesus' offer of freedom, rest and abundant life.