Yesterday morning, I left myself exactly 17 minutes to write. I sat down at my keyboard at 8:43, knowing that I had a call scheduled at 9:00, then a full day planned from there.

If I didn’t write in those 17 minutes, I wasn’t going to write. There wasn’t another window open unless I canceled things. And I don’t like to cancel things. I used to do that all the time and now I prefer to be more proactive and be picky about what makes it on my calendar in the first place. My whole day was filled with things I wanted to do.

So I sat down and speed wrote. Clickity clack, write-ity write.

And a page of useable words flowed out. The benefit of writing the way that I do is that you develop the ability to throw things together quickly. Like that friend who can throw together a dinner party in 17 minutes, I can throw together a publishable essay in 17 minutes.

Except I don’t want to throw together an essay in 17 minutes.

I’m proud to say that I’ve published a post every day for the last 33 days. That’s a huge accomplishment and I feel good about it.

And…publishing every day isn’t my goal.

CONNECTING every day is my goal.

These morning musings? They’re first and foremost a sacred practice.

I show up each morning as an act of devotion. I show up to connect with something bigger myself, to play with ideas, to hopefully experience flow.

I show up because I believe that this practice is THE cornerstone well-being practice for me. My favorite version of me writes every day and she moves her body every day. It’s not a particularly high bar, which is helpful.

So yesterday, when I forgot about my 9:00 call and didn’t leave myself enough time for a spacious morning, I went on autopilot and wrote, wrote, wrote because I have this streak that I don’t want to break.

And later, when I realized what I did, I grieved.

I don’t like our society’s obsession with productivity, efficiency and results.

I refuse to worship at the altar of busy-ness.

In fact, I want my life to be a REBELLION against that way of living.

But there I was, racing away at the keyboard, turning a sacred practice into a results-oriented rush to the finish line.

WITHOUT EVEN REALIZING IT.

I’m not mad at myself. Like Glennon Doyle, I practice relentless self-forgiveness. It helps me stay in a place of inner peace.

But I am sad to have done it.

I want to live in a world where the journey matters more than the destination.

I want to focus on having a fulfilling day today. Then having a fulfilling day tomorrow. And I trust that the rest will take care of itself.

When you string together enough fulfilling minutes, you have a fulfilling hour.

When you string together enough fulfilling hours, you have a fulfilling day.

When you string together enough fulfilling days, you have a fulfilling life.

I’ve found that approaching it this way means I enjoy the process. It gives me the opportunity to have both a fulfilling life AND a pleasant life.

And I want both. I usually do. I’m a have your cake and eat it too kinda gal.

So, anyway, that’s what I’m musing today. Ways to live in accordance with my values and beliefs. And, for me, that means honoring the process over the results. Enjoying the journey. And recognizing that the important things deserve space, not to be crammed into 17-minute gaps in our schedule.

For me, that’s writing. For you, it might be parenting. For someone else, it might be exercise. The “thing” itself doesn’t matter. The honoring of the process does.

Sending love and my hopes for a spacious Sunday,

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