Your weekly dose of Alluviance!
Most Sundays I’ll head to a coffee shop and work for a few hours.
My weeks are usually stacked with meetings, calls, and conversations, so the weekend is often the first moment I have real space to focus.
This past Sunday, I did exactly that.
Laptop open. Coffee in hand. Getting things done.
But the truth is, I was there from pressure.
There was anxiety underneath the whole thing. Fear. That subtle feeling of, I have too much to do. I need to get ahead of this week. I need to tighten things up.
And even though I got work done, I left feeling like I had missed something.
The deeper need that morning was space, and I blew right past that.
It could have been: a slow cup of coffee, a walk, my feet in the grass, a little room to breathe before stepping back into a full week.
I’m realizing how easy it is to fill open space with more doing and call it discipline.
Sometimes it is.
Sometimes it’s fear in a productive costume.
That’s a hard thing to admit when you care a lot. When you’re ambitious. When you’re carrying real responsibility.
In an ideal world, everything on my calendar is coming from clarity. It's not always the case though.
Some of it is coming from noise.
Noise from pressure. Noise from expectation. Noise from the part of us that doesn’t trust that slowing down could actually serve us more.
And when that noise gets loud enough, action starts to feel like truth.
So I’ve been sitting with a simple question:
When space opens up, what actually serves most?
Not what looks impressive.
Not what gives me the fastest hit of control.
What would actually serve?
Because sometimes the answer is the laptop.
And sometimes it’s the grass.
1. Featured LinkedIn Post:
"Getting curious about essence"
My wife wrote this and it felt important to share:
Inside the heart of most of us, there is a dream.
A desire.
A hunger to become someone - to grow, to be more, to do more. But somewhere along the way...
2. Quote to fuel your Alluviance:
"All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." — Blaise Pascal