There’s a frenetic energy to springtime in the Pacific Northwest.
Buds burst open overnight. Birds sing outside my window in pleasing cacophonies. Bees and bunnies reappear from their winter hideouts. Pink cherry blossom petals float through the air like snow.
I love it. And sometimes I misinterpret spring’s urgent unfolding as judgment against my own slower pace of creative work.
It’s okay to go slowly, even (especially?) when everything around you seems to be speeding up.
What is one thing you’re feeling unnecessarily urgent about? Can you give yourself permission to go slowly?