Sometimes I take myself very seriously.

I watch every thought, judge every deed with grave importance.

I wonder whether my sense of significance around my own existence is my soul seeking form or my narcissism flaring up again.

The urgency burns and time feels slippery.

It seems like I’m in a race to make good on the promises I’ve whispered to myself when feeling crushed by the injustices streaming on the news.

I saw a quote recently “Mother Teresa never worried about her thighs. She had shit to do.”

It inspired me. A fist pump and a hell yeah.

And I felt ashamed for worrying about my thighs.

Sometimes I take my body very seriously, like it’s a failure to overcome.

I hold my image up to scrutiny in the mirror and compare the width of things to other women.

I don’t worry about other women’s thighs, they all look beautiful to me, but I compare nonetheless.

And when they share their woes, I get it.

We too have shit to do. And we’re doing it. And we still worry about our thighs.

Sometimes I take the shit I have to do very seriously.

I measure a day by accomplishments, by measurable progress.

I push through exhaustion or generate stress about the deadlines I give myself.

I forget the natural rhythms of things, that everything starts with incubation, with what’s unseen. That there must be exhales and pauses.

To constantly produce is to be trapped in Groundhog Day, looping through a single season, over and over.

Perhaps I should take reprieve more seriously.

Sometimes I take my relationships very seriously.

I keep a running list of every relational open loop, every promise I’ve made, and each communication that awaits reply, attention or affection.

I concern myself with weaving genuine care into everything I do or create for others.

To be honest, it can get exhausting, caring this much.

But I’m fiercely grateful for my relationships.

They are the doorways to everything.

Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t take things so seriously.

And then I take these musings rather seriously.

But I must remember that I’m not such a grave person.

I laugh more than I cry. And I cry a lot.

I can be quite silly, or cheesy or irreverent or fun loving.

Sometimes I’m even flippant and fail to take things seriously.

I do treat life as a party most of the time.

While we’re not supposed to sweat the small stuff, it’s not all small stuff.

Some things really are worth taking seriously. Like each other. But probably not the size of our thighs.