
Lately I've been writing in the Book of Me. Things about me that are good to know, and that I often forget. Things that, if I remember, are very, very helpful. Such as, "Coffee makes me tense but I will drink it anyway if it's in the house. Cure tension by not bringing home coffee!"
I write things both big and small in the Book of Me. I write down gentle observations and useful reminders, because the Book of Me isn't a giant motivational tool or a place for hard resolutions. It's kind of like a compassionate reference book. I'm not trying to fix or change things, just trying to get to know me.
The Book of Me isn't my idea. I stumbled across it while lost in the archives of The Fluent Self, the blog of the wonderful Havi Brooks.
This is my little story of what happened after I read her post, The Book of You, which I highly recommend.
At one point her post Havi writes:
"All the biggified people on the internet shouting about how you have to write in the morning and you can’t have more than three projects and how you always have to do X to get Y?
They’re not talking about you. They’re talking about themselves. They are sharing some of the information from that big Book of Them."
I laughed cringed when I first read that part about writing three pages every morning. Hadn't I recommended the very same thing to you? And really, who was I to do that? And beyond that, it wasn't even something I could honestly recommend anymore. It had gotten stale for me. I no longer wanted to wake up early and write three pages anymore.
I thought I was staying in bed because of winter. I thought I wasn't writing because I was becoming undisciplined.
Which is when I picked up my morning pages notebook and starting writing my first notes for the Book of Me instead. And also when I discovered something amazing about writing in the Book of Me.
Part of the Book of Me is about recognizing that we change. In seasons, in situations. Thinking I had a great seasonal observation to make, I wrote "Getting up at four to write and work--something I normally love to do--just isn't happening. I'm not an early bird in winter when it is dark."
Great! Woohoo! Book of Me. Now I know--winter is for sleeping in. I can give myself permission to hit snooze from now til spring.
But I kept writing. And all this stuff came pouring out that I'd been unaware of on a conscious, verbal level.
"Also, I'm feeling uninspired and I little confused right now about what I want to be doing for my work." Oh--that makes sense. No clarity or inspiration--no desire to hop out of bed and write, blog, or paint. Got it.
"Also," I wrote, "I want more time for learning and for painting. I'm spending a lot of time on nuts and bolts and I think I can change that if I'm mindful about my time." Right. There is only one of me, and I get caught up in the administrative/technical must-dos. But I want time to play!
"Also," I wrote, "I'm feeling a little resentful toward my work. I want a one-week holiday away from the computer, and everything business related. I want time to curl up under blankets with novels and hot cocoa." Oh! There's another reason to sleep in. I need a vacation! A snowflake break!
One simple, gentle observation had led me to the whys behind the whys of sleeping in. I needed clarity, more time for different things, and a vacation.
It wasn't winter at all! As it turns out I am not a sleepy-good-for-nothing. Approaching myself with compassionate inquiry had helped me figure this out.
If I had talked to myself with the more usual "You're getting behind in your work! Set your alarm! Set two alarms! Wake up earlier! Balls to the walls!" then maybe I would have started hopping out of bed early again and getting more done before Thommy woke up.
But I would have missed out on the insight. I would still be spinning my wheels. I would still be ever-so-slightly grumpy.
My creative call to you this week, if it moves you, is this--a Book of You, in a form that you love. Post-its? Dictated notes? A hand-bound journal? I've repurposed my stale morning pages notebook.
You could even leave your own notes on you in the comments, if you like.
Try a few observations. What are you noticing about yourself today? Does that observation lead to more? Does it take you under the surface?
Imagine you're getting to know yourself on a first date...but you've already been married to yourself for decades, and the love is still there...so really, you can let it all hang out.
Observations with love. Not to change, but to know.
xoxo Maeg