The Sun Stood Still . . . and So Did I

An experiment in simplification

Today is the summer solstice, and I love using natural, seasonal moments as opportunities to pause and reflect and create.

I read recently in an article by the BBC Sky at Night magazine that the word solstice comes from the combination of the Latin words sol (the Sun) and sistere, which means “to stand still.” While the sun doesn’t literally stand still, “solstices fall when the Sun ceases its apparent movement northwards or southwards that’s been ongoing since the last one.”

Though I also haven’t been literally standing still, I’ve felt like I’ve been stuck in a similar pattern of “ceasing apparent movement.” I’ve been busy yet nothing seems to be moving.

I continued reading: “As for why solstices happen, it’s all to do with Earth’s orbit around the Sun and its axial tilt; its physical inclination relative to its orbital plane.”

I thought about my own personal inclinations, my own orbits (though I like to think of them as spirals), and the things I tend to “tilt” toward. Given my limited human brain with its equally limited awareness, I tend to look for obvious things in life that are causing me to “tilt” one way or the other, things that keep me stuck in a particular orbit. And then sometimes I have to ask myself the hard question: Is this the orbit I want to be stuck in?

For me, the answer is no. And so I embraced a moment of stillness, becoming present to it instead of resisting it, I felt a little something loosen. It was enough movement that inspired me to go through a simple process that has led me to look at how I have been living and spending my time—much of which is dictated by the tyranny of my To-Do List.

What does this have to do with solstice?

Solstice is a time of transition from action to nourishment. It represents the triumph of light over darkness, new beginnings, expansion, and the peak of nature’s abundance.

In order to expand, sometimes things will need to first contract. In order to have true abundance, growth, and flourishing, there will need to be pruning and pulling out some weeds—to use gardening metaphors. And that means, for me, looking at my overflowing plate of intentions (that show up as items in my To-Do List), and practicing the art of “Not Doing Now” and the liberating truth of “Never Doing.”

I was recently reading Walden by Thoreau who said:

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms . . . ”

Nearly two-hundred years later, I’m still deeply moved by this. Perhaps even more so now than I was when I first read it.

I’m feeling called to live more deliberately, more intentionally, and that requires me to be more honest with myself. So, during this time of reflection, as much as I love some of the things on my list, I’m ready to kill my darlings.

Moving from gardening metaphors to literary ones, the concept of “killing your darlings” is used all the time in editing and writing, referring to the deletion of passages, characters, or storylines that you are fond of but that don’t contribute to the story's overall effectiveness. By removing these “darlings,” writers can ensure their work is streamlined, focused, and impactful.

The problem is, some of these darlings can keep a person stuck. Emotionally paralyzed, even. They might be lofty goals we’ve held on to. They might even be great ideas. But like weeds, or even other flowering plants, they need to be pulled in order for the “real” growth to occur. So, I’ve decided to make deep cuts. This means letting go of some possible future storylines for myself, like becoming a full-time librarian or a university professor or starting my own wellness spa.

If the thought of letting go of some of your goals or dreams feels daunting or sad, then maybe those are the things that get to stay on your list. But I’ll bet that there are at least a handful of things (if not more) that you’ll be ready to let go of. And when you do, I imagine you’ll experience a sense of relief. If it helps you, consider thinking of it as a way to step more into your main character story arc or your hero’s journey.

As I stood still this Solstice week, here are some of the things I’ve deleted from my To-Do List (#nerd_alert):

• Become an NPL ambassador (with the Nashville Public Library). As a former library worker, volunteer, and adult literacy tutor, I love all things library. I notice a little guilt rise up as I let this one go, but I have to remember that I can still support, promote, use the library, even though I’m not currently feeling called to step into this role at this time.

• Complete YTT and become a yoga instructor. This has been on my list for about fourteen years and there was a time when my yoga practice was on point! But my current practice is almost nonexistent. So, let’s be real: It’s coming off the list. It would be enough to just get back into my regular yoga practice at this point.

• Read through NPR’s Books We Love NPR: Books We Love. There was a time in my childhood where I had strange ambition to “read all the books in the library,” because at that time, my hometown library was all I could imagine. When I later discovered the Library of Congress and its millions of books (current reports say 36 million), I realized I needed to give up that dream. Not to be morbid, but let’s say I live for another fifty years on the higher end. If I read one book a week for the rest of my life, the max I’ll read is 2,600 books. That’s about what I currently have in my own digital and physical collection. NPR, I love you, but I am giving up this fantasy To-Do.

• Participate in Anti-Slavery Manuscript Translations. I’m embarrassed to admit that this has been on my To-Do List for so long, I literally just found out it’s already done as I was cleaning up my list this past week. So, it’s not even a thing anymore. According to their site, “As of August 12, 2020, this project is complete. Our sincere thanks to the almost 14,000 volunteers who helped to transcribe this collection of more than 12,000 letters in just over 2.5 years. We’ll post on the Talk boards and send out a newsletter with information about the project’s next steps, including where/when you’ll be able to access the completed transcriptions. Thanks again—we could not have done this without you.” This has been done for almost five years!!! I have a small regret for not having played a role in this meaningful project, but I’m also deeply moved by the fact that so many others did. Bravo to you! ❤️

• Paint fireplace mantle. Look. It’s a basic white mantle. Do I have lofty home design goals for creating the ultimate cozy and well-defined space? All. The. Time. But is there anything wrong with my mantle? No. I’m leaving it.

• Develop C2 proficiency in both Spanish and French. This one was hard to take off my list as I’m a lover of languages. This doesn’t mean I’m going to stop learning these languages, but I’m no longer setting a proficiency goal. My goal to be fluent in Spanish stemmed from wanting to be able to communicate effectively, beyond Disculpe, dónde está el baño? As it turns out, I’ve learned that my basic Spanish was enough to get me by throughout various Central and South American countries, and my French was enought to get me by through Montreal and Quebec City. You don’t have to be perfectly fluent to get around a country or even make meaningful connections. You just need some basics, along with a willing spirit and a decent attitude toward people. So, I’ll keep my Duolingo streaks going and while also cutting myself some slack. Hopefully this frees up something for you too.

The Art of Never Doing

Previously, I would move items from my “To Do” list to my “Someday/Maybe” list, also called by some productivity experts “Not Doing Now.” And I would sometimes move some of my “Someday/Maybe” items to my “Never Doing” list—kind of like how when someone wants to get rid of items from their closet, so they box them up and put them in their garage so they can revisit them in six months to see if they still feel good about donating them. They’re still there if we really need them. It removes the sting of an immediate removal and helps you still make progress. And if that’s where you are, no problem.

But I was ready this week to make some hard edits, completely deleting items altogether, admitting: I’m never doing these things.

<sigh>

That feels so good to say out loud. It feels great to let some of these things go.

What about you? What are you holding on to? Think back to your younger days. Remember that boundless wellspring of ambition? Convinced that by thirty you'd be fluent in multiple languages, a master pastry chef, an accomplished musician, and have penned at least one Pulitzer-winning novel? Every book and online course seemed like a vital life skill. Every exotic dish, a culinary pilgrimage. Every craft kit, a pathway to artisanal glory. Writing this now, I still feel those little lingering longings. But I’ve hit the delete key and they are no longer there weighing on me.

Why Does This Matter?

Well, for me all of this matters greatly because each one of these items has been sitting as an incompletion, taking up valuable space in my brainpan. It’s too much cognitive load that I no longer want to carry, even if it’s just 1 percent of my brain. Each item has literally lived on my to-do list—specifically or on my Someday/Maybe list. And I believe that each one of those things sucks a little bit of energy and affects cognitive load. Have you heard of the Zeigarnik Effect? Basically, unfinished tasks create a kind of cognitive burden, constantly reminding us of their existence and making them more prominent in our memory.

At the beginning of this year, I wrote down a single word on my board: Simplify.

In order to live more intentionally, more Thoreauvian, I need to live more simply. I need less noise and fewer distractions. I need a simplified and aligned To-Do List.

Everyone’s lists and callings will be different, and I’m not suggesting anyone model theirs off of mine. My hope is for everyone to have a little more room, more peace, more freedom to do what truly matters to them—and to stop doing things simply because society tells you to.

For me, it doesn’t matter if my mantle is basic when I’m not living in full alignment or ignoring my deeper calling. Having goals is great. I’m a superfan of goals—maybe too much sometimes. But at the end of my life, I’m not going to care about which level of French or Spanish I achieved.

I might, however, regret not publishing my own books on my own terms. I might also regret not planting more trees and flowers for pollinators and edible gardens for myself and my community—or regenerating the soil on whatever little plot I’m afforded and fortunate enough to steward. I would likely regret not opting out of the never-ending cycle of overconsumption and instead opting to reduce and reuse more radically than ever. I know that’s not popular, but that’s okay.

For someone who loves talking about lifestyle—and I do—I’m not the person who has the latest brand-named accessories and fashion typically associated with lifestyle. (Friend, you really don’t need that new Kate Spade bag in order to be happy, in spite of how often commercials suggest you do.)

Instead, I am deeply passionate about the style of life we each get to choose for ourselves—independent of what our neighbors are doing. And that’s where I like to come in—to offer new ways of looking at things. To march to the beats of our own drums. To then make beautiful music together, each with our own rhythms—the kinds we can sustain. How we style our lives therefore matters.

What To Do with Your To-Dos

Maybe you don’t have your goals or To-Dos formally written down like I do, but do you have those things stirring in the back of your mind that you feel you should do?

Given that, I believe each one of those things sucks a little bit of energy from us and affects our cognitive load—each one a minor distraction, even when we’re not actively engaged with it—this can be exhausting and paralyzing, which is a phenomenon called “anticipatory fatigue” or “anticipatory stress” according to Psychology Today.

So, how does one go about an entire reprioritization?

How do we live more deliberately?

During this time of Solstice, over the next week, I invite you to “stand still with the sun.” Take some time to reflect on those things that only you will know for yourself. Go over your lists and goals and see if what it is you’re currently doing—or what you plan to do—still serves you. To continue using gardening metaphors, I hope this process helps you clear away the weeds and sucker branches that keep you away from whatever true fulfillment is waiting for you.

In this time of reflection and meditating, we’re getting real. We’re staring down the barrel of our mortal coil and asking:

What can I actually do?

What am I feeling called to do?

What have I been ignoring for some reason or other?

What have I been afraid to try?

And, perhaps more importantly:

What will I, with intention and grace, simply not do?

For me, it’s this latter question that required the most courage.

When you begin to actively curate your “not doing now” and “never doing” lists, you create space. Not just physical space in your calendar, but mental and emotional space in your very being. You’ll find yourself breathing more easily, feeling less harried, and paradoxically, accomplishing more of what truly matters. Because when you stop trying to do everything, you finally have the capacity to do the things that are truly, deeply, joyously yours. And what could be more deliberate and life-giving than that?

A Solstice Blessing

As the season turns, may you shed what is unnecessary and embrace the beautiful spaciousness you create.