Monthly Musings: October reflections

It’s time again for monthly musings, and this time I just wanted to reflect for a few minutes on writing through the month of October. This isn’t new, other writers have been here before. But this my path, and these are the things I’ve discovered for myself.

  1. Letting go of perfectionism. When you have to post every day, there isn’t enough time to write and rewrite to get it perfect. At some point you have to decide it’s good enough and press Publish.
  2. Writing to deadline. Lots and lots of short deadlines means you have to keep showing up and putting pen to paper and fingers to the keyboard. Even when you don’t have any great ideas and aren’t feeling inspired.
  3. Writing on the same topic every day. Writing and posting on the same topic every day for a month makes it easier and harder. Easier because you have a frame to work within. Harder because you have to keep finding new elements, new perspectives to keep the topic interesting.
  4. I still don’t have a solution for procrastination. Deadlines help, but they can also mean that you just get less sleep so you can hit Publish before midnight. Ironic when you’re writing about rest – but then I knew that was a risk from the beginning.
  5. Uncovering insights. Sometimes I don’t realise what ideas or insights I have on a topic until I’ve started writing. I might think I have nothing to say, until I start to say it. Sometimes it just unfolds in the process of writing. That’s a weird feeling, but also good.
  6. But wait, there’s more. Even though the series has ended I know that there’s a lot more about rest to be discovered and practised. This is really just the beginning of finding the rhythm of rest, and I fully expect to be writing about it more in the future. As they say, watch this space.

What did you discover in October?

Image credit: morguefile.com

31 Days: Rest in the rhythm of ebbs and flows

Port Elliot
I came across this description of God at work that seemed so relevant to this series that I wanted to share it with you. It comes from a book called The Grace Outpouring by Roy Godwin and Dave Roberts about the wonderful things God is doing in and through Ffald-y-Brenin, a Christian retreat centre in West Wales.

She just looked at me and said. “Can I share a word with you? God says that he works with you in ebbs and flows, and you get worried with the ebb. He is working in ebbs and flows with you so that his work is sustainable. And he allows the ebbs in order for you to consolidate and rest, take a deep breath, have time to rest and sleep, catch up on all the ordinary things that need to be done. This is so that you are able to sustain things during the next flow. This is God’s plan and pattern of working with you.”

I thought about the ebb and flow, how the tide comes crashing in and sliding out. I thought about how we breathe in and out, our cycles of minutes and hours, days, weeks, months and years. The cycles of sun and moon, and seasons. 

Music, dancing, walking, running – they all need rhythm. It seems to me that there is rhythm throughout God’s creation – a gift of grace to sustain it.

The nature of rhythm includes rest. It is a gift of grace to sustain us.

The Rhythm of Rest
This is Day 28 of The Rhythm of Rest series (Write 31 Days challenge).

31 Days: Nature knows how to rest

Daisies
It seems even the flowers in my garden have better sense than I do when it comes to rest. They know when to close their petals for the night, while I’m still busy trying to squeeze in one more thing.

I think nature could teach us a lot about rest, if we stopped long enough to pay attention.

The Rhythm of Rest
This is a Day 14 of The Rhythm of Rest series (Write 31 Days challenge).

31 Days: Slowing Down to Rest

Have you ever noticed how worry and hurry seem to be joined at the hip?

When I’m worried that I’m going to be late, I hurry. When I’m worried that I won’t get everything done that needs to be done when it needs to be done, I hurry. When I’m worried that I’m not going to meet the expectations and timeframes of others, I hurry.

When I’m in a hurry I’m only interested in the destination. When I’m in a hurry I’m tight and tense. Everything about me is hurried. I walk faster, I talk faster, my breathing is shallower (if I remember to breathe at all – sometimes I catch myself holding my breath), my movements lose their coordination and I get clumsy. When I’m in a hurry I lose my patience and my tolerance for the slowness of others.

When I’m in a hurry I only notice what I need to get to where I’m going. When I’m in a hurry I become a person I don’t much like.

But when I choose to slow down, when I start to breathe again, I look around and I start to notice the things around me. The things that help me rest.

I notice the morning sunlight illuminating blossom petals in my garden.

I notice how the muscles in my legs move as I walk (a little slower). How the rhythm returns to my stride.

I notice the expressions on the faces of the people I meet.

I notice the floating duck silhouetted against the last blush of twilight on my way home from work.

I notice how the spring air is soft on my skin.

I notice the scent of flowers in the evening.

When I slow down, I hear God whispering and I realise that he’s been speaking to me all along.

In An Unhurried lifeAlan Fadling writes, “When I found myself slowing down inside, the Lord seemed to say, ‘Don’t talk trust and live worry.’ … Jesus was inviting me to live with trust in him instead of worry.”

And that’s also the invitation of Jesus to me and to you. To slow down and walk with him, to live with trust in him instead of worry. The invitation to trust him is also an invitation to rest in him, to “learn the unforced rhythms of grace”.

The Rhythm of Rest

This is Day 3 of The Rhythm of Rest series (Write 31 Days challenge).

Finding my rhythm

We were chatting about morning routines, and the things that are essential at the start of the day. One friend’s family members have learned not to ask any questions or expect any help from her before she’s had her first coffee. They know she’s not really conscious until she’s had coffee.

I don’t really have much in the way of consistent daily or weekly routines. You may have noticed that since I’m so sporadic with my writing and posts on Flourish! Having a routine seems somehow kind of boring, static and inflexible, as if that would characterise me if I kept to a routine. Computer programs have routines. (My apologies to those of you who function well precisely because you do have a routine.)

So, because words affect how I think and feel about something, and therefore how I act, I’ve been thinking that perhaps I need a different word.

Rhythm

Not so much a routine, as a rhythm, like a piece of music, a dance or a poem.

In her book, A million little ways⁠1, Emily P. Freeman explains how the words workmanship or masterpiece are often used to translate the Greek word poiema in Ephesians 2:10, and that our English word poem has its origins in this word poiema. 

If I am a living poem, what might the rhythm of my life look like?

I like the idea of rhythm; pattern, flow, tempo. It feels more life-giving than routine.

There’s a lot to think about there, but I want to start here with you, with this blog. I want to experiment with establishing a rhythm to my offerings at Flourish!

Here are a few ideas I’m tossing about at present. I’d like to know if they resonate with you, or just make you feel like you’re travelling on a corrugated dirt road in a car with a dodgy suspension.

  • Monthly Musings – thoughts on what I’ve discovered, experienced, learned in the last month
  • OneWord365 – regular posts on my one word for this year (which is “trust” in case you were wondering)
  • The Book Tour – thoughts / notes from the books I’m reading (monthly?)
  • Themed series – and yes, I will get back to the series on Waiting.

If you have any ideas about what you’d like to see on Flourish! in 2015, I’m all ears. Join the conversation in the Comments section.


Emily P. Freeman, A million little ways: uncover the art you were made to live (Grand Rapids: Revell, 2013), 25.

Image source: morguefile.com