Sometimes, I Just Need to Stop

Sometimes, I Just Need to Stop [Blog]

I was reading an insightful poem today, titled “I like it when I stop”. It’s a lovely and well-written poem about allowing ourselves to just stop from time to time. Stop worrying about chores around the house; ignore the pile of lists on the desk beckoning to be taken care of; stop “doing” anything that is remotely responsible. Instead, allow yourself to read your book for hours on end, sit in the bath until you think you might shrivel to nothing, watch movies one after another until your brain is numb and your heart is happy. Take that guilty pleasure and run with it… at least once in awhile.

I have so many guilty pleasures that I almost never get to them all, with a list as long as Santa’s naughty and nice list, I’ve always got so much to do. Between MECDA responsibilities, dancing, teaching, and websites, sometimes I almost just drown. These are the times that I just STOP and remind myself that I need a break. Not just a fifteen-minute break with a bite to eat, but a real break. The kind of break that almost gives me a break from reality, from the lists; the kind of break that if I had lived in the 60’s, someone would have hauled me off to the asylum for fear that I had left societies’ ever demanding nature and had decided to not conform.

Maybe that’s what this is all about for me. I will not conform. I do not want to conform. I try everything to be a non-conformist, and yet, here I am, on occasion… conforming. I love to let time slip away, even days, and sometimes think, isn’t this Tuesday, while time has already slipped into Thursday. I love to be out hiking with the sun as my only timepiece. I love to crochet for hours, watching film after film, enjoying the imagery. I love to escape to Rock Creek, nine thousand feet up, in the amazing forest. No phones, no computers, no lists.

But many of these things do not happen often enough. Once per week, if I’m lucky, I delve into the smaller pleasures. Sometimes, twice per month is my only salvation. The bigger escapes only take place once or twice per year. It’s an interesting conundrum. I love to be busy; I make myself busy; I took on these tasks. I love to multi-task. I crave lists of things to do. Without them, I sometimes feel as if I have no purpose. Ironic that I crave the opposite of deadlines and lists to the extent of daydreaming about it. Perhaps it’s just a natural reaction to the hectic life I choose to lead?

Do you like to just stop? Do you get to often?

Here is the beautiful poem that inspired my blog today:

I like it when I stop,
For whatever reason I stop.

Now I’m dabbling in the moment, drawing in my notebook, combing the cats or cutting
Out pictures on the couch . . .

A voice will nag me to stop and get up and do something, like Father’s,
But I ignore it–

In a carefree way, I read my book;
Maybe I’m behind on my work,
Perhaps Father’s nervousness was justified.

All the heaps of things to do,
All the consecutive chores,
All the lofty goals,
The force of progress becomes a blur.

What I love the most is this,
A place of utter emptiness,
Where Hours go unrecorded,
And minutes disappear, unmarked by significance,
Yet full of meaning too, pregnant even, like a secret.

~ Leathe (The Blog of Innocence)


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