I recently wrote about the word of intention I set for 2023: Consistency. Last year I did the same as I looked back on 2022, the year of less. Throughout this year, my intention is to focus on depth.
Despite inconsistencies in 2023, I kept showing up to practices that mattered to me: creativity, wellness and relationships. I stuck with simple routines, checked the boxes and reaped the benefits of an intentional life.
This year, I’d like to deepen those practices. (I considered “Deeper” as the word for 2024, but I couldn’t get over it sounding like a demand to be shouted during coitus)
My fellow yogis may recognize that depth follows consistency. In over a decade of practice, I’ve heard many instructors emphasize the importance of “showing up to the mat,” and how over time, repetition of a movement will allow you to go deeper into the shape you’re creating with your body.
Stretching deeper doesn’t mean pushing harder or forcing your body in an unnatural way. Depth is a natural consequence: you feel yourself settling in further until one day you notice how far you’ve come.
Settling deeper is the opposite of stretching oneself too thin—something I’m well acquainted with. Creating depth requires being in a moment, not reaching elsewhere in mind, body or spirit.
Focusing on depth is about acknowledging that what I have right now is enough.
In shallow living, we rush to find answers to simple questions. We find ourselves defaulting to googling, settling for answers from search engine optimized blocks of text that don’t necessarily add insight. Rather, they confirm what we’re thinking enough to allow our breath to slow, our heart rate to steady. We allow the opinions of complete strangers with no credibility nor qualifications to assure us in generalizations that we’re doing the right thing.
Depth, on the other hand, is a pause. It’s not a rush for any answer. Rather, it’s settling into the question or the situation, listening to what you know to be true, letting your own wisdom and intuition guide you.
A pause is crucial—not reaching for outside answers, not reaching for digital means as a cure-all. But it’s not the only answer. I want depth in many aspects of my life: my thinking, learning, creative work, relationships. Hell, I even want to clean deeper.
Because depth can’t be forced, there should be exercises I complete to strengthen my capacity for depth.
Reread books. I’ll consider how I internalized messages in the years since the first read and how I could push that notion further, or how I interpret things differently now that I’ve acquired more wisdom.
Memorize quotes and/or poems. This may seem like a frivolous and futile endeavor, but some messages are worth knowing by heart, and sometimes someone else has said it in a way that can’t be improved upon.
Blog. I’ll take notes, dissect and write about the conversations I have and the media I consume: books, podcasts, news stories. I’ll share about art and creative endeavors. Often in the process of sharing I stumble upon new insight.
Allow boredom. I’ll stare off into space. I won’t hide from my own thoughts. I won’t rush to pick up a book (formerly social media) in moments that require patience and waiting.
Use my phone as a tool. I will avoid the distractions of infotainment like Reddit, the news, or videos uploaded to Pinterest. There is a plethora of means to entertain myself, and a phone with an internet connection is the default for most. I don’t gamble with my money, why gamble with my time by engaging with the rigged lottery that is a social media feed?
Spend more time in nature. This has been proven to renew ability to focus throughout the day.
Block off uninterruptible time for my creative work, whether it be painting or writing. I’ll treat it like physical therapy or workouts: non-negotiable.
Timed sketches to increase my speed and efficiency. I’ll apply high intensity training to more quickly improve this skill.
Plan my week in advance. This also boils down to making the most out of my time, be it for rest, work, or play.
Write Letters. I managed to write less than a handful of letters last year, but this is a form of communication that brings me great joy.
Frequent the same businesses. There are so many people I can look forward to seeing at their workplace- my friends at the grocery store, the friends at the coffee shop where I buy my husband’s beans, the waitress at the soup dumpling restaurant whose smile spreads broadly across her face when my family walks in the door. Frequenting businesses builds community, creates belonging. That’s one of my great joys.
Reach out more often. I too often am stuck in the minutiae of life. I think of people often whom I don’t reach out to. How are they to know how important they are to me if I don’t? In the past, I’ve had a small graph that has the person’s name in one column and the date of the last time we spoke/saw each other in another column. This was an effective strategy for my disorganized mind.
Purge. This goes back to abundance—I’ve kept scraps for decades, hoarding craft materials under the guise of environmentalism. I see now how holding on to old, potential ideas can distract from my prioritized creative work.
Cherish the items I keep. How can I appreciate all that I have if there is more than I can stay of top of? To stop stretching myself thin regarding my belongings, I must have less stuff.
Get the hidden spots. Do the regular maintenance. Make the repairs. That’s how I cherish material items. I respect and care for them.
This applies to digital life as well. I want to edit this corner of my world as well to amplify the important and turn down the noise elsewhere.
Boiling down a year to a word could be more simple than a list of resolutions. However, if I were to simply say the word without digging deep, it would be meaningless—a brittle goal with no direction.
Perhaps goes the same for a life without intention and depth? All the more reason to pull out the spades and dig.
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