“An artist must have down time, time to do nothing. Defending our right to such time takes courage, conviction, and resiliency. An artist requires the upkeep of creative solitude. An artist requires the healing of time alone.”

-Julian Cameron

When I retired from flying 3 years ago, I began to think of what I could do with this gift of free time. Was there anything I’d been wanting to do, but had been previously unable to fit into my schedule? The answer that came to me was to take yoga teacher training. After looking through many programs, I signed up for a four month, 200 hour training. My plan was just to learn more, to deepen my practice. One month into training we read the book Prayer of Heart and Body by Thomas Ryan. That’s when I knew I wanted to teach, and to always include prayer and meditation in my classes.

I started teaching free classes in my home, completing 10 classes by the time I was finished with training. I continued teaching in my home, occasionally taught at other people’s homes, started hosting 3-day retreats, and taught weekly classes in my friend’s church. All of this was great, but I hadn’t taken anyone else’s classes in at least a year, and was in need of receiving yoga.

I noticed that a yoga studio 20 minutes from my home was offering a deal on a 2 week pass of unlimited classes. After really enjoying 8 classes, I noticed a sign asking for volunteers to work a 4 hour shift one day a week at the front desk, in exchange for an unlimited membership. On the day of my 9th class I signed up for this great opportunity.

The job was perfect for me. I welcomed everyone who came to class, gave tours of the studio and answered questions. Over time I got to know many people from my time at the front desk and all the classes I was taking. In addition to the classes, I signed up for a 10 hour training on yin yoga then a 15 hour training on restorative yoga. After learning more, I began making more YouTube videos, taught a few classes in my church, as well as a free yoga in the park. I also taught a couple of chair yoga classes to a group of lovely women.

While working at the studio, I learned about a great place to host day retreats. I was already hosting 3 multiday retreats, but decided to schedule a couple retreats in the new space. When they went well I booked 3 more day retreats. All this is in addition to 2 days a week of volunteer work, Sunday school, church, time with friends, laundry, sleep, etc.

They were all good things that I really enjoyed and they also took a lot of time and mental energy. With so many thoughts in my head about all the things I wanted to do and needed to remember, my sleep was being affected. For the first time, the upcoming retreat I’d been planning was the retreat I needed. Even knowing that my schedule would slow down after the 4 day pocket of peace, I knew that changes needed to be made. It saddened me to realize that I hadn’t written poetry in several months, a sure sign that too much was going on.

“What are you willing to give up in order to have the life you keep saying you want?” a wise older woman once said to me. I said, “You’re right–I really need to say no to things I don’t want to do.” She corrected me, “No, it’s much harder than that. You need to learn how to start saying no to things you DO want to do, with the recognition that you have only one life, and you don’t have the time and energy for everything.”

-Elizabeth Gilbert

After a year at the yoga studio, it was time to leave. As much as I enjoyed the people and classes, the downtime at home was needed more. Quiet mornings in my nest, savoring coffee, oatmeal with all the sprinkles, time to journal, read thought provoking books while taking notes, baking bread, long walks on the greenway – these are the luxuries I needed.

My sleep has improved, the poetry is making a comeback, and I’m able to be more fully present with the people I love. In a world with so many options of good things to fill our days, I’m thankful for the realization that by cutting out some things I enjoy, I’m able to go deeper on the things that matter most to me.