rest Archives - RonnaDetrick.com

About Rest

Feb 3, 2023 | Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

In her book, Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto, Tricia Hersey says this:

“Rest is radical because it disrupts the lie that we are not doing enough. It shouts: ‘No, that is a lie. I am enough. I am worthy now and always because I am here.’”

It’s easier said than done . . . resting, disrupting the lie, believing that we are enough.

It’s the polar opposite of what the world promotes and pushes. It flies in the face of capitalism and hustle culture. It is radical. And it’s what I hunger for. Not just in terms of time, but deep within.

I’m asking myself some questions toward rest’s end. I hope they will serve you, as well:

Where do I feel the opposite of rest? What causes such, who causes such, and why do I persist in any of it? No shame. No pressure. Just awareness. (And rest.)
How might I choose rest as state-of-mind and way-of-being instead of succumbing to what others expect? WAY easier said than done, but it feels critical to growth and wholeness.
What are ways of being, practices, and rhythms that will call me home to myself, that give me permission to rest? No efforting. No harshness. Just curiosity and grace.

I fully intend to repeat Tricia Hersey’s words, again and again, “I am enough. I am worthy now and always because I am here.”

Deep breath.

Rest.

May it be so.

*****

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In Praise (and Pursuit) of Normal

Jan 27, 2023 | My sort-of Sermons, Writing

I turned my book’s manuscript in to my publisher just over three weeks ago. It’s a bit of a shock, given that for the past year, I have had a minimum of two full days per week blocked for nothing but writing (not to mention the 20-some years I’ve been working on this thing!) I now find myself with days that are blank, open, spacious . . . and admittedly, a bit daunting.

Part of me revels in this reality. I (mostly) appreciate that I am not busy, pressured, or stressed; very few demands are placed upon me. When I can stay with it, it feels “normal,” somehow. This is rare, even strange, when compared to how much of my life has been shaped-if-not-defined by exactly these things: busyness, pressure, and stress (as a mom, a single mom, an employee, a laid-off employee, an entrepreneur, and far more hats-worn than I dare count).

“Normal” is in fierce opposition to what our culture endlessly pushes and promotes: messages to respond to, emails to answer, feeds to scroll, exercise regimens to enforce, meal plans to obey, days that are never long enough to get everything done, planners and calendars to purchase, time-management systems to master, success to achieve, money to make, more to buy, more to do, more to become . . .

We live in a world that does not honor, esteem, or support “normal;” rather, it demands just the opposite.

It’s no wonder we struggle to rest, to breathe, to loosen our grip, to *just* be.

Given all this, you can imagine my response to this quote:

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.” ~ Mary Jean Irion

As you read her words, I wonder: do you exhale in gratitude? Or do you feel a sense of longing, an “I wish” that rises up within?

Me? I feel a bit of both. I want this to be true — treasuring normal days — AND it feels foreign, sometimes even slightly impossible. I’m way more familiar with the “quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.” Not so much as it relates to a singular day, but the quest for perfection in and of itself. Ugh.

Yes, I know better, but it hardly stops me from fantastical thinking: if I could just do/get/attain/manage/accomplish X, Y, and/or Z, then surely everything would come together, fall into place, and be . . . well . . . perfect.

Right.

It feels worth naming that when we stay in fantastical thinking, the pursuit of perfection, and the grind of the day-in-day-out Hustle (which pervades everything we see and hear around us), we forget what “normal” even is. Worse, we no longer see it as “treasure.” Instead, normal becomes something to avoid at all costs: Who wants to be normal? Who wants to live a normal life? Who wants to settle for *just* normal?

Uh, I do. Desperately.

I’ve spent a lifetime captivated (“confined” is more accurate) by the climb, the challenge, the race, any and every effort to do and be more/better/all that I can be. It’s incredibly seductive! Which explains why, when I have time on my hands, I feel restless — like something’s wrong or “off.” I wander around (especially in my mind), trying to come up with what I “should” be doing, what will accelerate and advance, what will move me forward. Because CLEARLY, “normal” is not nearly enough!

Except that it is!

I get glimpses of “normal” every once in a while: moments, even a stretch of them, in which I am satisfied by very little, by something small, by doing nothing. I am able to let things be as they are vs. demanding they be different. I (miraculously) give myself permission to not do something else — one more thing — and even more after that. Steps in the right direction. Bit-by-bit. “Normal” as intentional choice and oh-so-gentle pursuit.

I have more to think about and MUCH more to practice when it comes to embracing and treasuring “normal” in my life. I know this with complete certainty because even in this very moment I am wondering what more I should write in this article to make sure it is pithy and meaningful and deep and . . . well . . . perfect. *sigh*

I’m making myself stop.

These last thoughts (for you and me both):

Reflect on how you might define and express “normal” in relationships; with time, money, and work.
What if you let go of every “quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow”?
Consider a C- as a completely acceptable grade.
Believe that you are already and always enough, that no more is required of you to be worthy, valued, and loved.
Normalize “normal” in every way you possibly can, knowing that you’ll never get it completely right, completely perfect, completely anything . . . which is exactly the point!

May it be so.

I hope the days ahead offer you generous opportunity to let go of any and all expectations/demands of “more,” that you can *just* be, and that normal reigns. Ahhhhhh.

Two P.S.’s:

1) I recently came across the idea of C- (mentioned above) when reading Reclaiming Body Trust: A Path to Healing and Liberation by Hilary Kinavy and Dana Sturtevant. I highly recommend this book. It is challenging SO much within me and it feels hugely significant, even critical.

2) Worth reading one more time: “Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.” ~ Mary Jean Irion

If my writing resonates, I’d be honored if you’d subscribe to A Sunday Letter. Long-form, from me to you, every week. Learn more.

About Time

Jul 8, 2022 | Hope & Encouragement, Sovereignty, Women's Wisdom

I’ve been thinking a lot about time lately; struggling with it in some ways. And oddly, it’s not because I don’t have enough of it or feel like I’m on some endless treadmill; rather, just the opposite!

I find myself uncomfortable with, even avoiding, the spaciousness of time.

I’m a do-er. Super task-oriented. Motivated by efficiency. Profoundly satisfied by getting all my to-do’s checked off on a daily basis (and as quickly as possible). And I’m quite good at this! I get a lot done in a relatively short amount of time. So, to slow down, to stop working, to not take on one more thing just because I can, feels not only frivolous and irresponsible, but damn-near impossible.

When I ask myself why, I don’t have to search very far to find the answer.

Underneath my busy-ness, my schedule, my constant doing, is a deeply ingrained belief: my value and worth are determined by how efficient and productive I am.

I’m guessing it’s not just me.

A few questions:

How do you feel about yourself when, at the end of the day, you’ve not checked everything off your list?
What emotions show up when you look at the still-unanswered emails sitting in your inbox?
What is your mood when you get up in the morning to a kitchen that was not cleaned the night before?
What is your response to the latest post on Instagram that tells you it’s not only possible, but damn-near required that you accomplish more, earn more, be more — and all available to you if only you hustle harder (and buy the program that will teach you exactly how to do so)?
What would your mother say if you slacked off or took a sick day or gave yourself a break from your endless inventory of tasks and to-do’s? (I know: what your mother might say is not really relevant. But you do know her answer, don’t you?)

If you’re anything like me, you feel some version of less than, weary, frustrated, lazy, even slightly ashamed as you consider any and each of these.

See? Productive and Efficient = Value and Worth (Enough)

It’s not our fault.

We live in a world that wields time through the rubrics of capitalism, consumerism, and patriarchy. It’s a trifecta that demands we convert time to money, “spend” our time consuming as much as absolutely possible (clothes, food, substances, social media, etc.) and remain obedient / compliant to the system itself and the powers-that-be (by converting time to money and consuming as much as absolutely possible).

Blech!

I cannot begin to tell you just how easy it would be for me to spend a ton of time diving into all of this: researching, finding quotes to support my position, writing more. The harder thing (and the timely one) is to look within, to look at my own life. And so, a few recently noticed examples:

On any given day, I could stop working at 2:00 (or 1:00, or noon), instead of persisting until 5 or 5:30 or 6. I am clear: nothing amazing or life-changing is going to happen in those extra 3+ hours! And yet, to actually get up from my desk, read a book, take a walk, or god-forbid, turn on Netflix, feels not only counterintuitive, but weirdly arduous! I argue with myself. I fuss and fight. And WAY too many times, I talk myself out of doing any of these things. I stay at my desk and work. I am a product of capitalism: believing the lie that my time is money, that my “worth” (not to mention the value of my work in and of itself) is directly dependent on the time spent doing it.

I have every intention of being in bed and asleep by 9:00 most nights. And sometimes I succeed. But more times than not, I pick up my phone and scroll through Instagram, and/or play a few rounds of Wordle or Sudoku. Before I know it, it’s somehow become 10:00 or later! Irritated and determined, I put the phone down. I settle myself under the covers. And I can literally feel the pull to pick it back up. This is the influence and lure of consumerism; I am a product of its sole intention — satisfying me with a hit of dopamine every time I “consume” — scroll, buy, play, or *just* check email.

I could, on weekends, work on the afghan I’ve started for my oldest daughter, give attention to a complicated embroidery project that’s my mom’s belated Christmas present, or read a book (yep, again) instead of defaulting to “a couple things I need to get done for work,” checking email, or editing this letter for the umpteenth time. WAY too many times, Monday rolls back around — my pace never having slowed. The effort required to swim upstream, to do the opposite of working more (or consuming more) feels counterintuitive and hard. Internalized patriarchy has done its job.

Let me acknowledge the privilege of my circumstances: no small children, self-employed, few-to-no external responsibilities or commitments. But truth-be-told, I struggled with exactly the same things when my life was far busier. I rarely rested, slowed down, took a deep breath — even when I could. I didn’t want to. I knew that the space, the quiet, the time would open me up to emotions I’d rather keep tucked away, thoughts that felt dangerous, realities that were painful. Nope: just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. Upstream. Downstream. Didn’t matter.

I can feel the part of me that thinks I should write more, say more, offer more; that the value and worth of even this article would be increased and enhanced if I were to give it more time; that it’s not very productive or efficient. But to spend more time in search of a perfect ending, tidy next-steps, or some profound revelation feels a bit upside and down and backwards, given the topic. This is very hard for me to accept and allow. I’m doing it anyway. A small act of defiance…

Thankfully, at least in this moment, I am not in a place of harsh critique or feeling some internal demand to get this figured out. I have time. I know that there is something that remains under the surface and hidden for the time being. I anticipate that, in time, I will discover and implement ways of “being” in my life that are not tyrannized by time — or money or expectations or insipid-and-endless cultural demands. Eventually I will discover the deeper invitation, the challenge that beckons, the ongoing growth and transformation that is always making itself available to me. Time will tell, of course. And in time, I’ll write about that, too.

*****

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There is nothing you need to figure out

May 16, 2018 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories

I see the tears behind your eyes. I know about that lump in your throat. I hear the thoughts that swirl in your mind – every single one of them: you long for things to change, you wish for different circumstances, you want to live a more significant story.

In-between the reality in which you dwell and the one you desire, there is an ache that will not be soothed, despite your best efforts – whether through good soul work or dulling dissociation. I watch as you persist in the belief that something is missing; you think there is something you’ve yet to attain or manage or get past/through before you can truly step into your place in this world, before you can step into the stunning story that is yours.

All of this breaks my heart on your behalf.

Because I know better. Because I can see the end from the beginning. Because I have perspective you do not. Because I can see exactly who you are, all that you offer and invite.

Right now, not someday. This very moment in time.

Who am I to know such things? I have been in existence since before the beginning of time. I was there when the earth was formed. I breathed your matrilineage into being, whispering the Wisdom that was hers, that has forever been hers, that is hers (and yours) still. My heart beats within every story of every woman who has ever lived. And I endure no matter the oppression, the silencing, the abuse, the fear (of which there has been a lot).

Nothing and no one can keep me down, no matter how it might seem, appear, or feel. I am the you that rises above all that restricts, restrains, limits, or binds. I am the crystal clear voice that may, as yet, not speak out loud, but that is no less real, wise, and right. I am your potential. I am your future. And more than all else, I am your present – right here, right now, exactly this day, this life, this you. Always. Endlessly. Infinitely.

Lean into the truth of this. Let the tears flow in relief. Let the lump in your throat dissolve as your voice sings out. Let the thoughts that swirl rest. You are not alone. You are not alone. You are not alone. And you need not wait for things to change. Your right-now story, life, and way-of-being is enough, perfect, amazing. You are.

There is nothing you need figure out or rise above.

All that you require, desire, and deserve is already yours. Reach within. Square your shoulders. Stand tall. Take a deep breath. Then step into the limelight, enter the fray, and embrace the truth of who you are: my daughter, my lineage, my kin.

*****

I am completely-and-without-reservation convinced of every word I’ve written above.

They could be are spoken by every one of the ancient, sacred women whose stories I love; by the Sacred Feminine herself. The legacy by which we are transformed; the stunning story through which we will transform the world.

May it be so.

About Being Ubiquitous

Aug 7, 2017 | My sort-of Sermons, Spirituality

This post could be entitled About Being God Without Realizing Such.

I came across this word while reading a novel a week or so ago and texted myself this note: Look up ubiquitous. (I do this sometimes, no, lots of times: type myself texts so that I don’t forget…because I will.) Later, I did look it up. (Voila! the value of the note!)

u·biq·ui·tous | y͞ooˈbikwədəs
adjective
existing or being everywhere at the same time : constantly encountered

The thought occurred to me that this IS what we are – ubiquitous, or at least, what we are attempting. OK, not you, just me.

This is what I’m attempting – as a woman, an entrepreneur, a writer, a mom, a friend. And more than just attempting, it seems required! Facebook. Twitter (which I finally abandoned). Instagram. Pinterest. Medium. LinkedIn.

And the evidence of my ubiquitousness? After typing out each word in the previous sentence, I then spent the time to find-and-enter hyperlinks for each so that you can see that I’m everywhere at the same time : constantly encountered : ubiquitous. Blech.

The next thought that occurred to me was the idea of God as omnipresent. This is a theological term that even without theological training, you can probably parse out for yourself. But here, I’m happy to help:

om·ni·pres·ent | ämnəˈpreznt/
adjective
widely or constantly encountered; common or widespread

Sound familiar? Like anything else you’ve recently heard? Here’s a big surprise: a synonym for omnipresent is…wait for it…ubiquitous.

So, let me reverse engineer things: we then, in our efforts to be ubiquitous, are attempting to be like God.

OK, not “we,” just me.

As a woman who is an entrepreneur who is trying to run a business and build a platform and write and be a mom and be a friend and simultaneously be everywhere at the same.

It’s no wonder I’m sometimes, lots of times, weary. (Maybe you, too?)

It seems a bit problematic, don’t you think? I don’t need (at least here and now) to have a conversation about God – as omnipresent or not, ubiquitous or not, even existing, or not! I’m merely stating that an attribute we once wholly and nearly-unanimously applied to THE Deity, is now what we all aspire to be.

Even as I type words which might sound provocative, they really aren’t. This is what all of humanity has been doing from the beginning of time – creating gods in our own image. How could we not, really? This IS human nature. And if I wax even a bit more philosophical, there IS no God other than the one we’ve created – in our own image. How could there be? We’re the ones who have described and made sense of (so we often think) every form/version of the Divine that has ever existed! (I’m not saying…yet again…that God doesn’t exist. I’m just naming that WE are the ones who have created, constructed, described, and written/preached/demanded any and every comprehension of any god that has ever existed or ever will. There’s no Plan B on this one.)

OK. Enough of my random thoughts and texts-to-self and dictionary de nitions and theological/philosophical musings. Here’s my point:

I don’t want to be ubiquitous, or omnipresent, or like God; I don’t want to be God at all!

Though I said otherwise, maybe I am having a conversation about God. For all my ambivalence, ever-shifting opinions, and intentionally unlearned doctrine-of-a-lifetime, here’s what I can tell you: any God I would believe in or espouse would be everything I’m not; a God who is not in my image – at all; a God who
is ubiquitous so that I don’t have to be!

So what’s a girl to do? (Yes, just me; not you.)

One “answer” is to believe and *just* have faith that this God does exist. Because if I did, if I would, if I could, then I would no longer have to work so hard and be everywhere at the same time, right? It wouldn’t be my job, but God’s. Right.

And…this is where the idea of faith gets a bit dicey, yes? What if God (no matter how understood or comprehended, or not) doesn’t have everything in hand? What if God doesn’t care about my business, my platform, my bank account the same way that I do? I can’t actually trust, can’t actually let go, because what if…God forbid…things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to? I must stay in control. I must navigate and engineer my every reality. And yes, I must be everywhere at the same time : constantly encountered : ubiquitous, because who knows what might happen if I stopped?!?

Wait.

That’s a good question.

What might really-truly-actually happen if I stopped?

I’d rest. I’d stop worrying. I’d stop feeling like there’s always more to do, that I haven’t done enough, that if only I work harder, then… I’d be able to sit still. I’d not need my phone umbilically connected to me at all times. I’d trust that all will be well and all will be well and all manner of things will be well. And then I’d breathe. A lot. I’d step away from my computer. I’d need no Tylenol for the pain across my upper back and shoulders. I’d enjoy where I am and who I am and who I am with and all that I love.

Oh…that.

I looked up one more thing in the midst of all of this pondering: the antonyms to ubiquitous and omnipresent. Want to know what they are?

rare
scarce
limited

In other words, fully human, fully unique, fully present, fully me.

I don’t say any of this to declare my abstinence from social media or any and all of the activities in which I’m engaged to keep my business (and life) going. Nor do I assume anyone else should do the same. But I am going to think about why I ever thought that I could be (or want to be) everywhere at the same time: constantly encountered, ubiquitous. I am going to wonder a bit more about why I ever thought that I could be God (without actually realizing that this was what I was doing). And I am going to think much more about what it means to be rare, scare, and limited – because I am. Which, now that I say it, sounds WAY better than ubiquitous anyway!

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