Permission granted.
Last week I finished a YA fantasy novel.
Heck, I don’t even know if that’s the right genre, maybe it was more for younger kids. It was definitely fantasy. Full of magic and mushrooms and forest creatures that were half one thing and half another. And a hero who was struggling, who had to face down some pretty serious fears, and who let his heart guide him when it mattered most.
It was exactly what I needed to read. And unlike anything I’ve ever read allowed myself to read before.
No, I’m more of a personal growth, anti-racism, parenting, business development, social justice, productivity reader. I read because it’s GOOD FOR ME. There are stacks of books on my shelf that I want to read, and even more in my mind that I haven’t purchased or borrowed from the library yet.
I definitely consider myself a reader, but it’s been hard lately.
When I got pregnant I started saying no to violent TV before bed (or ever), to over stimulating movies and loud theaters.
When SiSi was an infant and sleep came in small chunks throughout the day for everyone in our household, I went back to my old routine of having 6 books around the house that I was reading at the same time. I found it comforting to have a different book for every mood (and time of day or night).
Lately I’ve found myself wanting to read only one thing at a time. It feels luxurious, like I’m pampering myself by not dividing my attention so much. And it’s very much in line with the anti-multi-tasking work I have done for myself and with my clients. But after a lifetime of conditioning—do more, be more, learn more, be part of every conversation!—it’s hard to put the habit down. It makes me feel guilty sometimes. Even selfish.
But I know better than to allow narratives like this to have free reign.
Narratives like this tell us that our curiosity is frivolous. That the things that bring us pleasure are a distraction. That our wild inner natures are meant to be tamed. Commodified (with work), downplayed (for our relationships), or squashed (out of shame).
But these are lies.
We are worth it. We are treasures. And our instincts are a map. If and when we choose to follow where they lead, we can finally align ourselves with what makes us happy, with our purpose, with the Divine.
Because we are worthy. We don’t have to “grow up” to find ourselves. Oftentimes, all we have to do is create a little space for our childlike yearnings. Get out of the way and allow for the magic.
So, on a recent trip to the downtown Bremerton library with SiSi, I let my eyes bounce over the beautiful covers in the kid section. The novels for older kids had never caught my attention before, and I got to thinking about the future when SiSi will be into chapter books and novels, and not wanting us to read everything to her or with her anymore. So my inner kid perked up, what’s inside of all these books?
Right away a particular cover pulled me in. Black, with a beautiful illustration of some wild characters, gold accents and some great reviews on the back.
I quietly tucked it under my arm. As I gift to myself, my inner kiddo.
And I’m so glad I did. This book took me on a fantastic journey. It was solace after a long day of work and parenting and adulting. It was a balm for my anxiety, and the mild depression that sets in this time of year when I’m not getting outside enough. It was a perfect reset button.
While I was reading it, I also realized that it was another fiction book that I had allowed myself permission to read last month that served as a kind of gateway for this one. I had put myself on a path. And during all this time I’d also set down all the other books I felt that I “ought” to be reading. I was creating space for my mind to truly wander.
Some white space around the myriad decisions and tasks that we demand of ourselves in this modern age.
I finished my youthful fantasy book last week, and on our next trip to the library I picked up another. This one is even more outside of my comfort zone. Lots of middle school slang and angst. But I’m hooked. It’s about witches and friendship and the fight to be authentic. And a full cast of kids of color. I think it’s going to reconnect me with some very uncomfortable times in my own life, in a gentle and healing way. If I allow it to.
And right now, while the world burns and everything seems so out of control, the peace and comfort that I’m finding in paying this kind of attention to my small inner Self feels invaluable and important: my own personal way to subvert the systems that are crushing us, keeping us separate from each other and ourselves. An avenue into being a more whole and present parent. And allowing others the same.
Consider this a permission slip to your inner most cravings. No more guilt. No more shame. You don't have to shout about it and make yourself uncomfortable But you do need to pay attention.
What have you secretly been longing to do, or make or read? Don’t wait. “Someday” is now.
Warmly,
Marit
