Have you ever had a time in life when you just couldn’t stop moving?  When you would just go and go and go, spinning round and round like one of those merry go rounds with the creepy horses, endlessly moving so you cannot stop?

The last few weeks of summer has been like that for me, filled with so many things.  And when my plate was empty, I didn’t want to stop.  Like a person on a mission—to do what, I’m still not quite sure—I just kept going and going, not wanting to sit still or stay home or do the laundry that desperately needed to be done.

This past week, of course, my body made me stop.

Actually, I tried to ignore the signs at first.  When my chest felt heavy on the first day, I convinced myself that I’d pushed too hard in my workout the day before. When the waves of nausea hit, I thought I’d just had too much water too close to eating a big meal.  Denial.  I kept going, making myself a batch of soup with some beautiful heirloom tomatoes I’d scored in the greenmarket.

The second day, I finally admitted I felt like crap, so I sat down and fervently started working on my computer.  Personal projects needed some attention, so there I was, pushing and not resting, the exact opposite of what my body wanted from me.

And then my computer crashed for no good reason.

It reminds me of a time that seems so long ago, when I worked in a furniture store.  My boss—who in times of stress leaned on his Napoleanic tendencies—had infuriated me for reasons I cannot remember now.  I was so angry, and my agitated, fire-hot energy was palpable.  I walked away from the situation to do something that needed to be done, which was to bring a rectangular glass coffee table top from one storeroom to the other.

This being California, you had to go outside to go from one door to the other.  I went to the other storeroom and pulled out the heavy glass, the whole time replaying the conversation in my head, becoming angrier and angrier the more I thought about it.  I continued carrying on in my head, walking outside, managing to shut the door with my foot while safely holding the five foot-long piece of glass.  Rage was building up inside me as I walked towards the other door and I sighed, trying to release the angry energy.

Suddenly, without warning, glass flew everywhere.  In my hands, it had simply shattered.  I hadn’t dropped it or hit it or knocked into anything.  It simply exploded.

This was my first lesson in the power of energy.

So in my not feeling well, coupled with my computer not working, I could see magic at work.  This, I’ve learned, is when you need to heed the wisdom the universe is laying down before you.

Finally I said, okay.  Okay, I get it.  Tell me what you want me to do.

I sat on my couch, swaddled in my down comforter, and watched Beaches and Dead Poet’s Society.  Because when you feel bad, really, you just need some things to make you feel just a little bit worse.  (Or is that just me??)

The movies made me think about artistry and what I wanted more of in my life – friendship, love, craftsmanship of the written word – and my sofa made me rest. For the next three days, I napped and rested and watched things that inspired me.

And I ate comforting homemade soup, which thankfully I had the foresight to make.

Roasted Heirloom Tomato Soup

This week, may you find the space to rest when you need it and may you use your energy wisely.

xo, with goodness and grace.