In pursuit of intentionality.
Somewhere over the last few years “busy” evolved into a personality trait rather than a state of time for me.
While there is beauty in “busy”, to even have the opportunity and privilege of being “busy” — of agency, independence and performance (and in many ways, there is a sort of perverse satisfaction to being known as ‘the person who’s always on to the next thing’) at some point you have to ask yourself “well what the hell am I busy with? Does it actually matter? Do I actually care about this?” Busy breeds avoidance. Busy reduces rumination. Busy does not actually always equate to progress.
Busy can also sometimes feel like drowning. Like a thousand spinning plates, with one unexpected and unavoidable eventuality from the periphery bringing it all crashing down (such is life). From it, I had to build myself back up again, to sit with the uncomfortable stillness of the unknown and reckon with the fragments around. To reflect and reconnect. To take stock on what really mattered — family, community, work and art that contributes something meaningful to the whole. To fill the cracks with gold.
I started transitioning from “busy” to “intentional”, to only saying yes to what aligns with me and the output I want to have on the world.
And here I am now, I no longer feel like I'm drowning but anchored in my purpose. I’m writing again. I’m cooking again. I’m reading again. For love, not reward. The busyness is still here, but the waves don’t feel all-consuming. Taking time to document and share the realities of such a pursuit towards an intentional life is something I want to do more of.
To anyone who needs to hear it, there is joy in the little moments between the disarray. The not understanding, the lack of direction, the fog of uncertainty seeping, the weaving between wondrous highs and woeful lows, there lies a place of promise and hope, a place of purpose and meaning.
The unknown will become known.
