Make What You're Doing, What You Want to Be Doing

What do you want from a blog? I want meaningful content, beautiful photos, and maybe the occasional video. I want something that isn't too long to read--an economy of words. Something small that's worth contemplating. I want inspiration on a regular basis, but not so many posts that I can't keep up with it. I don't want gimmicks, formulas, or a focus on advertising. I want it to breathe the Spirit. 

So that's exactly what I want to give followers of this blog. To that end, I plan to post two or three times a week, at most, of what I understand Wisdom to be imparting. Today's message is, very simply, to make what you're doing what you want to be doing. 

I spoke in the previous post's video about the ceasing of striving. Yet my mind seems to be constantly seduced by the question, "What next?" I think this comes down to habitual patterns of thinking, and it's a question our culture perpetually tries to force us to ask ourselves. Because we should always be wanting something else, or something more. Could it be that the malaise I spoke about in the last couple of posts has its roots in this modernist mindset? Does life feel like one big checklist of productivity? Is even your leisure time composed of what you think you should want, or what someone else tells you ought to be your values? 

Minimalism is a spiritual path. It's about carving out a deep and meaningful life and eliminating the clutter. For me, it's about having an inward-oriented inspiration and guidance, rather than a searching outward for answers. What I want Organic Mothering to be about now is helping others to listen to the indwelling Spirit while I let go of striving and learn to listen myself. 

Today I've decided to make what I'm doing what I want to be doing. Writing a blog. Designing a fall "still life" for my porch. Prayer. Being present with homeschooling and connecting with my child, rather than striving to get it done so we can move on. Facing boredom with what gifts it might have to give, what lessons it may be waiting to teach. Laundry, dinner, walking the dogs. Embracing the repetition that is the touchstone of life. Letting go of what's next.