Way back when I went to see the movie “Chocolat” with my good friend, Pat, on one of the many Friday nights that we ran away from all sense of responsibility and just had fun in a a way that Pat had perfected. The movie became one of my all time favorites with it’s fairytale like story of a woman who was prone to follow the wind whenever the feeling that it was time to move on overwhelmed her. I somehow identified with her because I too have a tinge of the wanderlust that was so strong in my father. While I never considered packing up and leaving the steadiness and routine of my life there have been moments when a strange whisper seemed to tell me that it was time to put aside my driven Type A personality and be uncharacteristically aimless if only for a few hours or a day. 

I suppose that my mother had a bit of that kind of thing in her soul as well because she often showed up without warning on my driveway in her car. She would honk her horn to announce her arrival, unwilling to even walk the few steps to knock on my front door. Whenever that happened I knew that she was revved up and ready to embark on some kind of adventure that she was serendipitously inviting me to enjoy with her. 

Sometimes i threw caution out the door, put on my shoes, and joined her without hesitation. I too was feeling the pull of abandoning the checklists of things to do in favor of just going with no plan at all. Other times I was too involved with my normal ways of doing things to leave my duties behind. Often I ended up regretting that I did not join her, especially after she grew older and no longer had the energy to be so spontaneous. Oh, how I miss those crazy times that we had together, just as I miss Pat insisting that I follow her into the promise of a rainbow day. 

I woke up this morning full of all the best intentions of making a trip to the grocery store for a few essentials. Then I was going to change the linens on the beds, clean the bathrooms, make preparations for my math classes, pull some weeds in the garden. I soon felt a wave of procrastination enveloping me. The sun was shining and it was taunting me to forget about the dust on the furniture. I began to think that nothing on my list of tasks was all that important. While I had no one to push me into shirking my pre-planned duties somehow I knew that I had to follow the feeling that this was a day to have no plan at all. 

Even as a child I remember waking up now and again thinking that I needed to play hooky from school. I would feign a cough and make myself look miserable as I lingered in bed until my mother came to see what was wrong. I should have earned an Oscar for my acting in those moments because I always convinced her that I was far too ill to rise from my sick bed. Perhaps she always knew when I was pulling a caper and simply agreed that I would was in need of a lazy day at home rather than pushing to get up and keep going in the race that would define most of my life. Mama was quite insightful like that!

I never once earned a perfect attendance medal either in school or at work. While I rarely got sick and only faked it once in a blue moon, the the whispers that are calling me today came often enough to break through my obsession with grading myself on the number of tasks that I accomplished each day. I must say that those were glorious ways of healing whatever was vexing me. They always made me even stronger when I whenever back to work. 

During the summer Olympics I found myself being in awe of Simone Biles mostly because of her honesty in discussing mental health. I got the feeling that she had experienced the “twisties” at the 2020 Olympics mostly because something in her mind was trying to tell her that it was time to rest. Thankfully she heeded the call when she seemed to so randomly drop out of the competition. She came back a stronger person because of her wisdom in acknowledging her feelings.

As a society we revere high energy, dedication, hard work, perfect attendance. I’ve been awarded many times for my determination and willingness to work till I am about to drop. In truth, while there are indeed human dynamos, most of us inevitably reach a point of exhaustion when we push too hard. If we do not heed a friend or parent or inner voice telling us that it is time to stop we are bound to become very ill. Listening to the wind, or the honking of a horn, or just a feeling that today is not the day to push push push can be the difference in being strong enough to keep pressing in the journey of life. It really is okay to leave everything undone for a time and just heal.

I miss my Thelma and Louise act with Pat and my impish mother tempting me to set my seriousness aside. I have to take charge of letting go all on my own now. I listen to my heart when the mountains are calling or the sea is luring me. I have learned how to walk away just long enough to come back refreshed and ready to compete for the gold medals that I seek. It always feels good to just wander with no map, no list, no plan.