I started bullet journaling in January of this year, tracking my resolution to stay home. That journal had been set up to last only through June 30, and the resolution, too, was one I meant for the first six months of the year. I've spent some time this July deciding if I wanted to continue attempting that resolution, whether to set up a new bujo or use an app, and what I might resolve alternatively if I felt set about that "stay home" resolution of the New Year.
I do feel that "stay home" has become pretty ingrained, and I've gotten better at it. Wading about in my brain for new goals, I find I'm craving a rhythm in this home life. We have sturdy weekly rhythms, good routines around bedtime, but the rest of our day is lacking.
There are many handy ways to track daily routines in bullet journals and I was browsing through Pinterest, looking at spirals with blocks one can color-code to match one's goals. I want to rise and shower at the same time, spend a certain amount of time lingering on the back porch over tea, get some yoga in, do all the day's work, and wind down at dinnertime as carefully. Rhythm. Maybe I'd adopt a single word to be a driving theme, like so many I knew had done last New Year.
While trying to sort out how to organize daily and weekly pages in my bujo to track such things, I found myself resenting the space on the page devoted to meal planning. Just like I resent the space in my day devoted to cooking dinner. So I have resolved to put it right there in my day's appointments space. Maybe if I treat making any given meal the same way I treat getting somewhere I told a friend or a professional I'd be, I will resent it less and get it done more often.
That seemed like a good first goal. Make dinner.
How simple my goals are this year. Stay home. Make dinner. But how deeply one can dwell in these tiny places. That's where all the meaning, all the wealth, all the satisfaction is. The children say if I was a demigod I'd be a daughter of Hestia. If they had any idea how hard I fight for what domesticity they witness...
I do feel that "stay home" has become pretty ingrained, and I've gotten better at it. Wading about in my brain for new goals, I find I'm craving a rhythm in this home life. We have sturdy weekly rhythms, good routines around bedtime, but the rest of our day is lacking.
There are many handy ways to track daily routines in bullet journals and I was browsing through Pinterest, looking at spirals with blocks one can color-code to match one's goals. I want to rise and shower at the same time, spend a certain amount of time lingering on the back porch over tea, get some yoga in, do all the day's work, and wind down at dinnertime as carefully. Rhythm. Maybe I'd adopt a single word to be a driving theme, like so many I knew had done last New Year.
While trying to sort out how to organize daily and weekly pages in my bujo to track such things, I found myself resenting the space on the page devoted to meal planning. Just like I resent the space in my day devoted to cooking dinner. So I have resolved to put it right there in my day's appointments space. Maybe if I treat making any given meal the same way I treat getting somewhere I told a friend or a professional I'd be, I will resent it less and get it done more often.
That seemed like a good first goal. Make dinner.
How simple my goals are this year. Stay home. Make dinner. But how deeply one can dwell in these tiny places. That's where all the meaning, all the wealth, all the satisfaction is. The children say if I was a demigod I'd be a daughter of Hestia. If they had any idea how hard I fight for what domesticity they witness...