#16 On Being Moved š§”
Attention, energy, imagination.
April 2025
I started drafting this monthās On Being Moved shortly after coming back from a brief time off - though calling it ātime offā feels a bit off in itself. What do you call it when you are job-seeking and essentially are off anyway? A pause from the pause? A breather between uncertainties?
A break.
It was a week split down the middle.
Half of it spent in a village near where I grew up, where most of my family lives nowadays. Everything a bit slower, the sound of spring tuning up. Walking the forest paths, skirting the edges of small lakes.
The other half in the ābigā city. Everything a bit faster, fuller. Wandering into galleries, a bookstore that is open until midnight, the endless possibilities of eating out, all while carving out moments of stillness.
Familiar pulls of a home I left fifteen years ago, still there, humming in my mind. It made me wonderā¦ about the what-ifs, about the could-have-beens. It is only natural. It was a pull in both directions: the soft tug of nostalgia, and the quiet weight of the life I am grateful to be living now. Despite the uncertainties in my life.
I felt my mind drifting, but was able to gently bring it back to where I am right now. And right now, as I type, it could not feel more nostalgic, sitting here at my late fatherās chess table, because my kitchen-cum-desk collapsed this morning. Yes, you read right. It collapsed. Just as I was about to fix it, having noticed something was not quite right. Wellā¦
Did it make me wonder what I am actually doing here? Yes. Did I stand beside the wreckage, quiet, sipping my morning tea like it was a kind of answer? Also yes. Did I find a solution that fits my needs to continue writing? Yes.
So, here we are.
Because in the end, it is not only about what could have been, but about what I choose to make space for now. And it seems like everything is directing me to write, to write, and to write.
Like Tala Rae Schlossberg in āThe Radical Act of Enjoying Your Lifeā says, it is not just about what we feel or hope for, but where we place our attention, energy and imagination.
If we want the world to be different, we must take accountability for our own time. For our own attention, energy and imagination. Where are we spending the resources of our lives? - Tala Rae Schlossberg
My attention, my energy, my imagination.
My attention, my energy, my imagination.
My attention, my energy, my imagination.
And also yes. Too often: I startle, I overthink, I blank.
And that is something I have learned that needs to change. Learning how to open myself up again, like the flowers Tara used to illustrate in her article. To unfold, gently, layer by layer. All layers are part of me. To meet these parts of myself I have not seen in a long time, or maybe have never even met before.
Imagination blooms.
Energy ripples.
Attention awakens.
To be engaged in the āradical act of enjoying my lifeā.
And yes, I feel like there will always be a certain level of doubt, a nagging question of what I am doing, or what I am trying to do. And that is okay.
Maybe the point is not having all the answers.
Maybe the point is that right now, I am doing what I enjoy doing, what I want to do.
Even these slow, uncertain moments carry their own kind of defiance. Sitting with intent, moving with intent. Unexpected things might take shape.
'On Being Movedā is a monthly series of exploring and expressing observations and thoughts - through both written and visual formats. Not sure yet of its direction, however each step forward is a step 'on being moved'. Welcome ā„
