Life was hectic the last few weeks. While I still journaled most days—mostly scribbling half-baked run-on sentences—I didn't have the headspace to publish something. "If there's one thing I learned about writing in the last two years, it's that I have to write where the heart is." I wrote a few weeks ago. "If the heart isn't there, it's better to put the work on hold instead of forcing it." I decided to heed my advice.
At first, it felt weird to depart from a habit I've consciously developed over the last two years. One initial motivation for this project was to challenge myself to be consistent. For as long as I'm an adult, I've abandoned many projects after merely weeks. While it makes sense to quit projects that no longer suit me or when the timing isn't right, I was also concerned that I couldn't follow through on commitments. However, having published 102 out of the last 106 weeks, I have enough proof.
The absence of a Friday target in the last few weeks made me feel lighter and allowed me to focus on other things life threw at me, but in the back of my mind, the desire to write something weekly remains. I also realize that at this stage of my life—with a day job and other obligations—I can't consistently write something too demanding. If I want to be consistent, something needs to change. It needs to be easier and simpler.
A new idea came to mind a few days ago: What if I pick a word or a phrase every week and write a short meditative piece, something more natural, free-form, and perhaps spontaneous? I've read a few daily meditation books through the years and found the format appealing: short pages that can be read in minutes while giving the subconscious mind something to noodle on. Choosing a word encapsulating my weekly experience and elaborating on it with a few words sounds pretty doable. My heart feels at peace with this idea.
So, I'm giving this idea a try. The inaugural word for this week is reset. According to the dictionary, reset means to set again or adjust to a new way. Inherent in that decision is a sense of openness, surrendering to the ever-changing nature of life. It acknowledges that sometimes we are better off starting fresh and finding a new path forward.
In basketball, the offense sometimes resets a play by retreating or passing the ball to an open player outside the three-point line, especially when a player is in a difficult position under defensive pressure or multiple players somehow end up in an awkward cluster. This applies to other sports, too: Referees for martial arts like judo or taekwondo reset the game when the contestants are tied up in a clumsy manner. The benefit is to give everyone space, regain control, and find clarity again.
Mysteriously, nature has built in reset into every human being through a process we take for granted: sleep. However great or terrible a given day is, we go to bed for a definitive end to the day, and we arise at least slightly reset the next morning. It's a process that requires doing nothing but giving it space and time, and it's almost always a good idea.
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