The Roses Still Deserve My Attention

This week, I’ve been revising slides, simplifying my logo, taking walks, visiting France through books and podcasts, and looking at the roses outside my office window.

I’ve also been listening to the news and wondering how much more we are expected to absorb without becoming permanently furious.

A fairly ordinary week, apparently.

I’m deep into creating my 14-lesson Bloom Again course. There is the work you imagine when you begin a project like this, and then there is the work you discover along the way. Recording lessons. Reviewing slides. Looking at something you previously thought was finished and realizing it could be clearer, simpler, better.

Lately, simplification has become a theme. I’ve been making changes to my brand and logo, asking what needs to stay and what I can let go.

That question has a way of wandering beyond the computer screen.

What am I adding because it serves a purpose? What am I keeping because I’ve already spent time on it? And where have I made something more complicated than it needs to be?

After a long career in project management, you might think I would have learned to recognize every opportunity for unnecessary complexity.

Apparently, I still like to give myself an occasional refresher course.

But I’m enjoying seeing the work become clearer. Bloom Again grew from my own experience of having to figure out who I was when the life I had known changed. I want the course to help other women find their way through those questions with some companionship and a practical place to begin.

Every revision brings me back to the woman who will eventually watch the lesson. Will this help her? Will she understand what I’m asking? Can I make it easier for her to take the next step?

Those are good questions to spend a day with.

And then, thankfully, there is the world beyond my desk.

The cooler weather has made my walks much more enjoyable. I do not do heat particularly well, so autumn feels like someone has finally adjusted the thermostat to accommodate me.

I like being outside without feeling that I need to hurry back into air conditioning. I can walk, look around, and enjoy the simple fact of being out in the morning.

Meanwhile, a used book arrived from Amazon: a beautiful coffee table book about Versailles.

I’ve visited Versailles twice, and I still find myself drawn to it. Now I can open this book and spend a little time there again, looking at the rooms and gardens, remembering what it felt like to see them in person.

There is something especially satisfying about finding a beautiful used book. Someone else had it before me. Now it has arrived here, ready to give another person a reason to linger over its pages.

I’ve also been listening to podcasts by women in France. My fascination with France continues quite happily, with no apparent intention of becoming more moderate.

There is pleasure in hearing about life somewhere else. It reminds me how much there is to learn, how many ways people arrange their days, and how much of the world I still want to experience.

Then I look outside my office window, and there are the roses.

Here in Indiana, they seem to be at their prettiest in the fall, just before the cold weather finally zaps them. I don’t know whether that is universally true or simply what happens with ours. But every year, they catch my attention again.

I know their season is coming to an end. That makes me more inclined to stop and look.

Of course, none of these pleasures prevents the news from reaching me.

I hear what comes out of this administration, and I am horrified. I worry about our country, about the treatment of people, about what we are being asked to accept as normal. I have strong feelings, and I do not intend to surrender either my judgment or my voice.

But I am trying to pay attention to what happens after I become informed.

Do I keep listening long after I have learned anything new? Do I carry the same outrage from one room to another? How much of my day have I handed over to people whose words and actions already trouble me?

Sometimes the honest answer is: too much.

There are things I can do with my concern. I can write, speak up, contact representatives, support people doing useful work, and participate in my community. I can also recognize when another hour of listening will leave me depleted without making me any more effective.

That is when a walk helps. Or a few pages about Versailles. Or returning to a lesson I hope will help someone.

These things give me something I need: a life substantial enough to keep caring from.

I want to remain curious. I want to make things. I want to notice beauty while it is right outside my window. I want room in my mind for the women I’m creating this course for, for the places I hope to visit, and for the people I love.

Perhaps you’ve been trying to find that room, too.

As we head into the weekend, I invite you to notice something that deserves a little more of your attention. Something you’ve been too busy or too troubled to enjoy. You don’t have to turn it into a project or draw a profound lesson from it.

You can simply spend a few minutes there.

The roses won’t last much longer. I’d like to see them while they’re here.

Thank you for reading and making room for these reflections in your day. If this resonated with you, please share it with someone who might appreciate it. And if someone shared it with you, I’d love to welcome you as a subscriber to Julie’s Journal.

Julie Bolejack, MBA

The Mindful Activist

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