We have time.
In which I am reluctant for Spring to arrive.
Here in New York, we are reaching the end of winter - daffodil leaves are peeking up out of the ground, rain has become more common than snow, and the chickens have started laying eggs again.
I am sorry to see winter go, which is very unusual for me. Come March I am usually wearing summer dresses (with leggings and sweaters and rain boots… but still! Summer dresses!) and I am growing pea greens in the window because I can't wait for the garden.
But this year, I have really enjoyed the quiet of this winter, and the ways that we focused on our pleasure, and took rest seriously. Of course, my house wasn’t often quiet, but we engaged less with the outside world, we had a very limited schedule, and stayed home a lot. Which, after 2 years of pandemic, you’d think would be frustrating or just boring. But I think one key difference for me was that I let go of some time pressure.
Time pressure: the urgency that fills so many of our days. The urgency to follow the schedule, to get to the next task, to finish more, to finish it faster. It’s not just keeping a schedule, it’s keeping to my ideal schedule - where exercise every morning while also writing in my journal, where I publish essays while also creating exciting homeschool activities, where I help my friends while also getting ahead on homestead chores… In a word: fantasy. But it’s a fantasy that so many of us hold on to - peak productivity.
And this winter, I tried to release myself from that fantasy - to stop when I wasn’t getting anything done and rest or play. To forgive myself for leaving a messy counter or a half done project and go to bed early. Yes, there were deadlines (and yes, I was late for a few of them) but work got done, and days were not disrupted… it just released some of the pressure. The pressure makes the same task much more difficult because the whole time I am fretting that I need to get it done faster - and there is no time for mistakes, so when they crop up I get frustrated instead of focused.
And Spring will mark a return to a schedule that has more activities and more projects (for me and for my kids), and more time pressure. I worry that I won’t be able to hold on to the belief that we have time.
I repeat “we have time” to my kids frequently. When they start to rush through a task, I remind them that we have time. Of course, I also am the one asking why they don’t have their shoes on after 20 minutes of me telling them that it’s time to go… so, maybe these are mixed messages. But no, I do keep them separate - and when we have time, I remind them of that. And my husband and I will remind each other, too.
We have time - that simple phrase takes the pressure down so many notches - we have time to find a solution, to start over, to come back to this later, to work at a comfortable pace. And we have time to do the things that make us happy, because what else are we going to do for this next hour? What is so urgent that I can’t do it in 45 minutes? And why am I so angry at this traffic when I can’t do anything to make it move faster? We have time.
I am grateful that we have been able to grant ourselves the time this winter. And I am a little afraid that it’s a spell that will be broken when spring arrives, when hibernation ends, when spring activities begin, when I have classes to prep for, and when I have a garden to get planted.
But what if it’s not a spell that breaks, but a muscle that strengthens? And you know what, we have time to figure that out, too.