48. What the weekend means to you?
I often try to leave you with a thought, an action, or a mindset to take into your weekend, part of me acknowledging how hard many of us work all week, for the smallest gift of time with loved ones. But often those two days are crammed to the rafters with jobs that need to be done, errands, clubs, social commitments…all of which can and I am sure are wonderful. On the flip side weekends can be tough, some of us will not fill it up, we do not have people to see and it can feel a long and lonely stretch before the week routine kicks in again.
We place reverence on weekends, because society expects us to ramp up and get excited about the impending weekend! If we aren't excited, we are odd, if we are excited then it brings with it expectations on those two days to be brilliant, amazing, fun, life affirming bla bla bla…and this can be all be exhausting.
How about if we go lightly into the weekend, without need for it to be anything other than it is. Two days in the week, two days for us to notice. Where we can honour ourselves, our practice, our needs. It is not selfish. We can take pauses in the day to reflect on what we may need in that moment, or to connect if we want to, with others. Or simply to sit and watch the grass grow, sleep, mend, down-tools, and rest. Simplify what it is we want and expect, hold our wants and desires more lightly, notice if we place expectations on others too that they may falter to achieve because we have not voiced them.
I invite you to hold the weekend lightly and want to leave you with by Maya Angelou.
Some clichty folks don't know the facts, posin' and preenin' and puttin' on acts, stretchin' their backs. They move into condos up over the ranks, pawn their souls to the local banks. Buying big cars they can't afford, ridin' around town actin' bored. If they want to learn how to live life right they ought to study me on Saturday night. My job at the plant ain't the biggest bet, but I pay my bills and stay out of debt. I get my hair done for my own self's sake, so I don't have to pick and I don't have to rake. Take the church money out and head cross town to my friend girl's house where we plan our round. We meet our men and go to a joint where the music is blue and to the point. Folks write about me. They just can't see how I work all week at the factory. Then get spruced up and laugh and dance And turn away from worry with sassy glance. They accuse me of livin' from day to day, but who are they kiddin'? So are they. My life ain't heaven but it sure ain't hell. I'm not on top but I call it swell if I'm able to work and get paid right and have the luck to be Black on a Saturday night.