Inhabiting Life Intentionally

For years, my ex-husband and I planned to build a home. I chose the land, chose the site, chose the house plan, chose the builder. And then I chose to finally listen to what was truest inside myself and ask for a divorce. My ex chose to go ahead and build the house, anyway. He moved in at the end of the summer, and I’m happy for him.

I’ve stayed behind in the old farmhouse that we’ve rented from my former in-laws for the last thirteen years. For thirteen years, we’ve trapped mice, removed birds from the woodstove, happened upon an unreasonable number of indoor snakes, and joked about how this house should be bulldozed on the day we move out.

But I didn’t move out. This is my home for the foreseeable future. My dad bought me a snake grabber, which is a relief. I didn’t know such gadgets existed, and the most recent battle I waged with the four-foot rat snake who was trying to make his home in my basement left me exhausted on the couch with tachycardia. That snake grabber is going to come in handy. 

I like to daydream about where I’ll live when I can afford to move. The truth is, though, that moving day is probably a long way off. I’ve started looking for small ways to make this house feel more like home. I can’t do much about the cracks in the foundation or the drafty old windows, but yesterday I cleared the random pile of DVDs and books that had accrued under the TV. I dusted, relocated the DVD player to the interior of the entertainment console, and then moved three house plants so that they sit on top of the console. It’s such a small thing, but now every time I walk into the living room, I smile. When I walk into the living room now, I’m stepping into an intentional space—a place I inhabit on purpose.

So much in our lives is not intentional. None of us got Covid-19 on purpose. None of us intended to stay sick for this long. Maybe life’s accidents and unexpected setbacks are the spaces that most call for intentionality. We didn’t choose to get Covid-19, but we choose how we respond. We don’t choose to relapse, but we can choose to be kind to ourselves on the dark days, and we can choose to seek out ways to be gentler with our bodies going forward.

I’ve noticed myself shirking my own power to live intentionally in one particular arena: smartphone use. I check and refresh the news headlines multiple times a day. Too often, I do the same for social media. This wouldn’t be a problem if this habit nourished me, but it doesn’t. More often than not, it distracts me from the more satisfying work of genuine connection with others. It distracts me from the deliciousness of coffee, the exuberance of birdsong, and the abundance that surrounds me. Instead of nourishing me, it heightens my anxiety or amplifies the feeling that something is lacking in my life.

This past weekend, I decided to take a break. No news, no social media. I had no idea what Donald Trump said or did for over forty-eight hours. For forty-eight hours, I didn’t know what my cousin was angry about, where that guy from high school was vacationing, or whether Sweaty Betty was having an online sale. Oddly, I didn’t feel diminished by my lack of knowledge on these fronts. I felt replenished. My headspace felt less cluttered and more intentional—a bit like my living room.

What spaces in your life would benefit from greater intentionality? Anyone want to join me on my next news and social media fast? If so, you can name the date(s)!

If you’re craving a little intentional movement, then check out the yoga video below—another totally recumbent practice for days when your body needs rest.