A Buddhist teacher once said, “If you want to make wild passionate love, bring the lover to bed.”
Sounds obvious. But is it? This teacher was pointing out that each of us is comprised of many different sub-personalities and in learning to be compassionate and kind to ourselves, we must allow each of them their time to shine. There can be a tendency for one aspect of the personality to dominate—to demand all our time. When that happens, our life gets out of balance.
Take me, for instance. I have many sub-personalities: nurturing mother, playful little girl, competent program manager, passionate lover, storytelling cook, feisty writer, awareness practitioner . . . I’ve learned it’s important for me to schedule time for each of these aspects of myself because if I don’t, life feels stressful and out of whack.
If the nurturing mother demands too much attention, the passionate lover dries up, leaving life less than juicy. Meanwhile, if too much time is devoted to program managing while home and family still demand attention, the nurturing mother begins to feel overburdened and resentful. And, if the writer never gets a voice and the awareness practitioner never sits in silence, I forget to step back and pay attention to life. I forget to notice the beauty of any particular moment and instead get swept away in the “busyness” of life.
As I become more familiar with the aspects of myself that legitimately require time and attention (note: NOT the voices of self-hate and self-criticism, mind you), I begin to appreciate the importance of scheduling time to work, time to nurture, time to be juicy, time to stop and pay attention, or as I like to think of It now, time to “Listen, Play, Write.” I begin to see this approach as a commitment to my whole self—to supporting each of my sub-personalities.
That being said, it still requires focus. If I have made a date to make love with my husband, then I better be darned sure the passionate lover shows up! I need to intentionally let the “to do” items of program managing and the worries of the nurturing mother recede to the background before climbing into bed. I need to bring the juicy playful lover to the fore. And, coincidentally, when I do it brings plenty of fodder to my writing table later.
I say all this because it is a particularly important reminder for us writers—we must schedule time to write. Our other sub-personalities will be vying for attention: devoted spouse, soccer parent, competent office worker, and we must give them time, too. But, during the writer’s time, give them all a break and bring the writer to the writing table. You’ll be glad you did.
The next time you sit down to write, check in with yourself. Did the writer show up? Or, is the “corporate executive” still planning tomorrow’s meeting—the parent still worrying about the child’s homework? If so, then stop. Take a breath. Let everything else go. Turn your attention back to the page and set the writer free.