Present Over Perfect

rhythm, a pattern. Simple, connected to God and his world
and people, uncomplicated by lots of stuff.
Along this passage, my life has become decidedly less
impressive. It has, though, become so much more joyful,
here on the inside, here where it matters only to me and to
the people closest to me. There’s less to see—fewer books
being published, fewer events being spoken at, fewer trips,
fewer blog posts, fewer parties. And the space that remains
is beautiful and peaceful and full of life and connection,
what I was looking for all along with all that pushing and
proving.
In my experience with this process, you have to start
with the outsides—it’s the only way to begin. So it starts
with calendars and concentric circles, lists, saying yes,
saying no. And over time you gain a little breathing room,
and with those first, beautiful deep breaths, you begin to
peel the next layer: why am I doing this? What is it in me
that keeps things moving so breakneck fast, that believes
achieving will keep me safe, that sacrifices my own health
and happiness so that people who aren’t me will think I’m
doing a good job, in some vague, moving-target kind of
way?
I tried, on and off for the first years of this journey, to
inch my way toward sanity and peace. And every fall I fell
apart again, having said yes to too many things. I needed
more than just a vague intention to slow down a little bit.
For some of us, the addiction to motion is so deep, so
pervasive, that only dramatic gestures are enough to take