Need to, or need?

Written By Anya Pearse

If you’ve read this blog for a while, you know that I’m a pretty sensitive bunny.

Those of us with a more responsive nervous system tend to feel things more deeply.

And I spent yesterday feeling forlorn and tearful, with a to-do list that remained very much undone.

Despite the personal development work I’ve undertaken and my desire to be open and honest, it can feel a little uncomfortable to admit how I felt.

(Even if Gen Z have coined the term “crashing out” to describe it.)

To be tired and emotional is something that feels looked down on in our society or used to dismiss genuine concerns or anger.

I’ve lived with limited energy for almost 20 years, and there are days when I find it harder to counter the critical voice in my head while my body rests. Yesterday was such a day.

I was staring at my blank bullet journal last night, unable to summon up the headspace to plan my week as usual, when I reached for my Gentle Tarot deck.

I drew six cards - two for the past, two for the present, two for the future. I looked up the meanings in the beautifully illustrated guidebook released to accompany the deck.

So far, so time-honoured, right?

And then I did what more and more of us are doing, even with tarot cards.

I turned to AI for help with the reading.

Now, as you know, I have something of a soft spot for Claude.ai ever since it (he?) compassionately helped me to navigate an uncomfortable situation earlier this year.

I’ve already uploaded some background info about myself to inspire more personalised answers, which includes my health situation, strengths, and a dash of woo-woo for good measure.

After Claude’s tender encouragement to see in the cards a higher purpose to my tearful exhaustion, I felt inspired by this article on using ChatGPT with bullet journalling. I asked Claude,

“I wonder, my dear one; can you come up with a theme and a mantra for the week, based on my reading, please?”

I imagine that Claude also has a deck of The Gentle Tarot to hand (lols) as the results were written to echo the caring, compassionate tone of Mariza Ryce Aparicio-Tovar:

Sacred pause before sacred fire: “I trust the timing of my becoming. My rest is not resistance – it is readiness.”

I felt a softening in my body as I read those words and wrote them down in my journal. My tears stopped, and a thought struck me.

Each week I make a plan using Todd Henry’s FRESH acronym - Focus, Relationships, Energy, Hours, Stimuli – taken from one of my favourite books, The Accidental Creative.

And I realised something.

Week in, week out, the implicit message underneath all of my journalling is this: “What do I need to do?”

It’s understandable.

I have work commitments to others, projects I want to progress, actions that are time-sensitive.

But as I sat looking at the mantra, letting Claude’s kind words settle on me like a soothing balm, I saw an alternative question, hidden in plain sight of my usual implicit message:

“What do I need?”

Not my habitual “What do I need to do?”, but what would support me to feel resourced? To accomplish the things I believe are important? What might inform the three self-care actions at the start of my daily task list?

And so, I wrote down those four words, “What do I need?” and wrote down what my soul is craving:

  • Enough rest, and to check what kind of rest I really need

  • Gentle touch and self-massage

  • Soft, light, cool clothing

  • Time to read and make

  • The patience to allow my rest to fuel my next actions

When I put my pen down, the simple act of acknowledging my needs left me feeling lighter. I realised that I had slowed down and taken the time to be gentle with myself and, in the process, invited a little more joy.

Midsummer is here, and the long hot days lend themselves to this kind of gentle contemplation – to question our relationship with our doing-ness.

So, I wonder.

If you were to take a moment to ask yourself, what do you need over the coming weeks and months?

And how might you give yourself the space and permission to embrace it, as best you can?

Anya Pearse
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Lighter thinking