My Quiet Harbour ⛵️⛵️⛵️
October, 28
In September, I put my Australian life on pause and went overseas for six weeks.
Across the ocean, life was bustling, sometimes stormy—a lovely break from the everyday routine! New people, new experiences. Now I’m back home, where everything is still on hold. My university courses won’t start until February, choir resumes in March, and work is quiet for another two weeks. I feel at ease: leisurely tidying the house, cooking borscht. Nowhere to rush.
It’s as if someone pressed a reset button.
It’s as if everything has been taken out of a room, leaving it empty and free from the clutter of daily life and obligations. And I’m supposed to start moving back in, unpacking my bags. But I hesitate, not wanting to disturb this peace. I don’t want to take on any commitments just yet. I’ve only just arrived at this quiet harbour and want to savour the gentle sway of the waves and the calming breeze.
I don’t want to get swept back into the relentless current of everyday tasks.
I want to be intentional, choosing carefully everything I bring into this space.
Tomorrow is Monday, and I know the strong current of daily life will start to pull: daily drop-offs and pick-ups, bills to pay, appointments to make, emails to answer.
But I’ll be vigilant. I’ll watch everything the current carries into my harbour. I’ll choose with care where to focus. I’ll tend to the truly important things first, placing them thoughtfully on the shelves, and only then will I unpack the smaller, routine items.
That is tomorrow. For now, I’ll rest.
October, 29
Monday. I had to fight a strong temptation to dive into piles of “urgent” tasks. But I mustered my willpower and bravely ignored the noisy crowd of small tasks, diligently returning my attention to an important task (the planning) that was modestly standing aside and patiently waiting for my attention… Usually, small tasks quite rudely elbow others aside and push their way to the front, while important tasks stand nobly aside without complaining. This time, I forbade myself from weak-mindedly letting tasks into my Quiet Harbor. Three hours of planning and strategizing without breaks. Then I had to get distracted by real urgent tasks - like picking up the kids from school, taking them to their activities, buying paint for a lesson, etc. But even three hours of complete focus on prioritizing filled me with a pleasant sense of satisfaction and peace.
Tuesday. It’s getting harder to hold back the onslaught of routine tasks. A few small ones managed to slip through the defense line before I finished building the full picture. But I finished! Now I just need to set MUSICAL priorities, and moving into ACTION!
Rip current (Rip)
"A rip is a strong, localized, and narrow current of water that moves directly away from the shore ... Swimmers caught in a rip current and who do not understand what is happening may exhaust themselves by trying to swim directly against the flow of water." (Wikipedia)
November 1. Friday.
It’s been a week since we returned home.
I started feeling a bit frustrated, caught in a whirlpool of household tasks. There it is, my Perfect Plan, lying in front of me like an old treasure map right under my nose. Just pick it up and follow the steps to the treasure! Yet, I seem unable to reach it, paddling endlessly but stuck in one spot. Family responsibilities keep pulling me back, dragging me away from the important things, as if I’m caught in a rip current.
In the past, I would exhaust myself, paddling through an endless to-do list, only to let the current pull me far from shore, drowning me in a sea of pointless tasks.
Now that I understand the rip’s nature, I don’t fight it or paddle harder.
Rip currents don’t work this way. The more you struggle toward shore, the stronger the current grows, piling up more “urgent” tasks in your path.
Instead, I do something unexpected — I change course and paddle sideways, along the shore. Yes, to reach the shore, you have to swim parallel to it. I know it sounds illogical. But it’s even more illogical to waste all your strength fighting the current rather than working around it, stepping ashore to rest, staying still for a moment to restore, and then diving back into the water, refreshed.
It’s like a couple of years ago, when I was completely overwhelmed by commitments. Instead of being sucked into the whirlpool of tasks, I booked two nights at a nearby Tibetan retreat to spend three days in silence on my own. Illogical? Perhaps. But that’s the nature of a riptide. It follows different rules. I came back refreshed, with greater clarity and efficiency, ready to jump back into the choppy waters. And guess what — all the tasks were still there, patiently waiting, and the world hadn’t fallen apart during my three days away.
Right now, I’m doing my creative writing to the magical sound of soothing music, even though this is usually my busiest time — getting the kids and myself ready for the day, drop-offs, phone calls, and so on.
But I could feel my energy waning, I didn't want to be swept out to the open ocean, far from those precious things that fill me with inspiration and energy. That’s why I needed to step aside, even briefly.
You can spend a lifetime fighting the rip current, paddling toward the shore as the shiny treasure chest beckons, or you can regularly escape the rip, checking in with your values, recharging with purpose, and then diving back into the endless ocean, refreshed and ready to enjoy life again.
~~~
"People are advised not to fight the current, which is too strong for any swimmer. People should not try to swim directly towards the beach. They should relax, and swim parallel to the beach.Eventually, they will be out of the rip current." (Wikipedia)
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