Good morning.
It's Sunday, October eighteenth.
Sunday has its own kind of quiet.
Fewer cars.
Nobody expecting an email back.
Let that quiet into the room.
Let it settle on the furniture.
Like dust in a sunbeam.
Get comfortable.
Maybe a blanket over your A knees.
new week starts tomorrow.
But it isn't here This yet.
past week didn't go perfectly.
Few weeks We're do.
not here to grade it.
Right now there's just this morning.
And six minutes to listen to yourself.
We'll slow the breath now.
Nice and even.
The same length in and out.
Breathe in...
slow and smooth.
And out...
just as slow.
In again...
like a porch rocker tipping forward.
And out...
like the rocker tipping back.
Once more.
In...
And out.
Feel how the body quiets down.
And the mind follows,
a step behind.
Now I'm going to ask you something.
Don't answer right away.
What do I want more of this week?
Not more tasks.
Not more to prove.
More of a feeling.
A way of being.
Ask it again, slowly.
What do I want more of?
Now just listen.
Like a Polaroid developing.
Blurry at first.
Then slowly...
the picture comes through.
Let one word rise up.
It might surprise you.
Maybe it's patience.
For the kids.
Or for yourself.
Maybe it's courage.
For the talk you've been putting off.
Maybe it's ease.
Or play.
Whatever shows up...
try not to argue with it.
Even if it seems too simple.
If a few words come...
pick the one that feels warmest.
If nothing comes...
that's okay.
Pick a word you'd like to feel.
That works too.
Now say your word inside.
Slowly.
Hear how it sounds in your own voice.
Say it once more.
Let it land somewhere in your chest.
Now picture Monday with your word in it.
You're stuck in a long line.
Or a meeting that runs over.
Your word shows up.
You take one breath.
And you act a little more like it.
That's all an intention is.
Try these words with me.
Quietly.
I know what I want this week.
My word can guide me.
Just hold your word now.
Gently.
Like a warm stone in your palm.
You don't have to do anything with it.
Let it sit there.
Let it get familiar.
It's a small word.
That's what makes it easy to carry.
Tuesday afternoon, when things get messy...
it'll still be there.
Imagine tucking it into the week ahead.
Like a note in a lunchbox.
Listen to the birds out in the fields.
Nobody rushing.
Notice the blanket again.
The light on the wall.
Reach your arms out to the sides.
Tilt your head, side to side.
One easy breath in...
And out.
Before you get up, one small thing.
Grab a sticky note.
Write your word on it.
Just the word.
Big letters, in marker if you have one.
Easy to read from across the kitchen.
Stick it where you'll see it tomorrow.
The coffee maker.
the front door.
Monday morning, you'll walk past it.
And remember this quiet Sunday.
If the word slips away by Wednesday...
the note will hand it back.
Open your eyes when you're ready.
Enjoy the slow part of the weekend.