Mondays can be a bit unpredictable.
Best case, it's a day off without much worry because I'm caught up with all my responsibilities.
Worst case, Mondays bring on some overwhelm if I already feel behind on the week.
I doubt I'm alone in that.
But today I was reminded what taking a bit of time to not be productive can do to that feeling of overwhelm that creeps in.
A good friend of mine has been hard at work moving his family to Northern California this past week. Today he was preparing for his final haul and invited me over to spend time together before he departs for good.
My first feeling upon receiving this invitation was hesitancy and fear. I have so much to do, how can I possibly fit in the time?
There is lettuce to harvest, bills to pay, accounting to tend to, farm repairs that need tending to, and new features to work on for our website.
Despite all that, something inside me told me to go see my friend. I conceded, but told myself I'd only give myself a short window to visit. Thirty minutes, max.
Well, three hours later, I'm back at my computer. And I must say, I'm so much better off for it.
Immediately upon seeing my friend (and some mutual friends who were visiting him too) I felt this tension in my shoulders begin to lift. I saw the warm smile of some good people, which felt like medicine for my soul.
All the tasks I'd been worried about somehow reduced in their urgency, leaving me completely present. I could sense the same of my friends.
Driving away, I was reminded that this is what it means to be in community. To put aside your concerns for a moment and genuinely be present with the people who matter most to you.
The demands of everyday life can have us forget this. Of course there are bills to pay and responsibilities to uphold, but too often these cause us to neglect our need to connect and share and laugh with loved ones.
I'm too often at fault for this.
Growing this farm into a sustainable business has called me to pour a ton of time and energy into it.
Some days it leaves me pretty exhausted. In those moments I often find myself wanting to retreat to my room, where I inevitably find some excuse to "get ahead" of work I know will be waiting for me anyway.
But I can sense this approach has its limits in the form of burnout and a quiet resentment of the work itself if left unchecked.
I imagine this is what leads some successful businesses to feel like prisons.
I don't want that for the tiny farm.
Which is why it's been important to listen for those moments when life gently taps me on the shoulder and asks me to stop being productive for a moment.
In hindsight, it often proves to be the most productive thing I could do.
✌️