Teach us to sit still." ~T.S. Eliot, Ash Wednesday
I am a recovering perfectionist, or so I’d like to think. More often than not, I’m recovering from the ramifications of perfectionism instead of overcoming perfectionism itself. Most of the time, I’m recovering from a bruised ego and a worn out soul.
At the risk of sounding like one those ridiculous job interview farces where the candidate arrogantly clucks out weaknesses that no one in their right mind would call weaknesses, “I try too hard. I care too much,” (eye roll please) the truth is, I try too hard and I care too much. About the wrong things.
I try too hard in the wrong things. I care too much about the wrong things.
How I look in a bathing suit. How many hits I get on my blog. If the guy I met at the party is going to friend me on Facebook.
But it’s deeper routed than that. It’s more than being distracted by the trivial. It’s being driven by the tyrannical. The tyrannical need to perform, to do, to complete, to accomplish.
I have trouble caring and not caring. I have trouble sitting still.
I want meaningful rest and meaningful work. I want to care about the right things and not care about the wrong things.
How do I get there?
I can force myself to sit still, physically. But how do I get my mind to rest?
How do I silence the biting guilt that courses through me, gnawing at me to be more loving, more engaged, more connected?
How do I engage in alone time when I don’t really feel the freedom to be alone? When I’m haunted with the need to be productive?
I’m so reluctant to sit, still and defenseless, with my longing and desire, to not try to fix myself, to let the Holy Spirit do its mysterious recreating in my soul.
Please teach me to care and not to care. Teach me to sit still.
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