Sometimes it’s hard to find, but it’s there. Schedule in some “me” time.
I just spent the past two weeks with my extended family. A group of nine of us traveling around in cars, trains, and planes. Slogging through unknown cities in the rain trying to figure out where we’re staying. Arriving and figuring out. Planning meals. Sorting. Discussing. Making decisions.
See the word “me” in the larger word “time”? It’s there, we just don’t see it.
It’d be fun if someone announced, “OK, everyone needs a quiet hour. Go read your books or listen to your music or … write your next chapter. No talking, no discussing, no noise. Just to yourself.”
Funny, as I write that I see that it might be a good idea. But it doesn’t come naturally. It probably doesn’t fit in the schedule. Maybe we need to make it a part of the schedule.
Alone time is important for all sorts of people. Some of us know we need it, others aren’t aware of it, but they need it to. Maybe they just don’t know or don’t care or don’t want to admit it. Maybe they don’t want to miss out or don’t want to think they’re missing out. But if we’re all doing our own thing then, by definition, they’re not missing out on a group activity.
This is Quiet Thunder
This episode of Thursday Thunder is my style of power, of force, of the subtlety of core strength. True thunder is loud and shatters your insides. But my dog can hear thunder that we can’t (it also freaks him out). It’s out there and we need to use it. We have it in us, we just need to access it, to let it roar, but it doesn’t have to be loud in the regular sense of the word.
Thunder can be silence. Thunder can be refueling for a quiet hour of reading your novel after a day of travel or work. Thunder is your heart.
But it needs lightning. It needs the spark. Maybe that spark is that time alone after a busy day–or before it.
Feed your Thunder. Give it what it needs. It will give back manyfold.