Juggling December with Grace

upside down in a hand stand, juggling with my feet and eating an ice cream cone, I'm fine. Why?

Let me tell you, It’s been crazy.

I got home from France, followed up with two 1:1 week-long retreats, a big Friendsgiving at our house, plus two more Thanksgiving outings. I got put on hold for a modeling job for Lancôme in Prague maybe next week (still waiting on it), and a model job for a non-disclosure-agreement finance company in San Francisco, also next week.

I’m planning to climb a mountain on a 3-day trip in Hawaii on the 18th, wanting to complete my 2nd draft of my memoir by the end of the year, launching my big 7-day New Years Akashic Awakening Certification Retreat, purchasing beds, sheets, lamps and all the things needed… and fitting in a quick jump over to Arizona to see my family for Christmas.

All while still managing the two rooms I’m Airbnb’ing at the house, tending to all my regular clients, simultaneously trying to sell my land in France, filing administrative papers for permits, and responding to inquiries with the 11-hour time difference.

Is that a lot?
If I list it out, it sure feels like a lot.

And I guess there are Christmas presents to purchase too, and freediving, writing this Museletter, and planning our weekly date with my partner, tomorrow.

I’m going freediving in a few hours, picking up a bed while I’m out that direction and then hopping over to a friend’s for dinner—a potluck—so I’ll steam the veggies while I make my eggs for breakfast.

THE WAY I LIVE MY LIFE (A.K.A. DOING THREE THINGS AT ONCE)

I don’t do one thing without doing three things at the same time.

My house is big, so I will never travel all the way across the house to bring one item to the other side. I multitask. Traveling from my room to the kitchen means picking up my teapot and glass, grabbing my underwear off the floor to drop in the laundry, turning off lights, and picking up kitchen objects on the way.

But then I’ll only go to the kitchen because I have something to do there—like make my hot chocolate—which, while the water is boiling, means putting away the dishes. While the blender is blending for 40 seconds, I’m putting away the oat milk, chocolate, rose oil, ginger, and pepper I pulled out to mix in.

If I take my morning cold shower under the garden hose, my eight feral cats follow me because they know I’m a multitasker. Shower outside means passing by their plates on the way back to my room, which means food.

They figured out the drill. Look at those little cuties👇🏽

HOW DO I KNOW WHEN TOO MUCH IS TOO MUCH?

I am a juggler. Literally.
I learned the art of juggling back in my circus days and continue to juggle the tasks of life in a beautiful arc above my head.

But the question is: Are there too many balls in the air?

To add to all this, my modeling jobs are not confirmed. I’m required to “hold the dates” until the last minute—meaning a potential 25-hour flight to Prague. And if I go all the way there, I might as well stop in France to see my son. And if I get the San Francisco job the week after, I might as well fly through San Francisco.

But nobody has confirmed yet.
So this takes up space in my brain with multiple “what if” options, and my schedule has to stay flexible enough to pivot at any moment.

I won’t even mention what’s coming up in January.

THE SIGNAL: WHEN I CAN’T FEEL PRESENT

I check in with myself: Is this too much, Carly? And how do you know?

It is too much when I can’t feel present in the moment.

When I’m unable to enjoy my daily swim in the ocean because I’m thinking about whether I have enough sheets for the retreat guests as fish swim by.

It’s me thinking about reminding the Airbnb guest where the parking spot is, or that I need to leave the lights on for them—while doing my morning HIIT workout.

I turn up the volume on the incredibly co-dependent love song that accompanies every HIIT session. Why don’t they have better music for those workouts? Honestly. It’s the first thing I hear in the morning, and it’s all about losing your sense of self to some cheating dude with an upbeat rhythm.

But the truth is: it drowns out my internal noise.
The harder the workout, the easier it is to stay focused.

It is, admittedly, a way for my mind to take a break.

AWARENESS CREEPING IN

Luckily, I have a lot of self-awareness—luck, or rather a lot of practice watching my mind and body sensations.

Last night, I sat up in bed thinking I’d listen to a guided meditation to step away from all the things taking up space in my mind. But as I listened, I realized: this too is more input.

Not only am I doing a million things, but even while cooking I’m listening to audiobooks—The Gene Keys, How to thrive with ADHD in 30 days (I don’t have ADHD but my clients, son and boyfriend do), and Just Kids about Patti Smith’s rock n’ roll life.

Do I actually need to fill my mind all the time with input?

I turn off the meditation. Besides being highly intuitive, I get the sense the speaker isn’t super authentic or grounded. I’m analyzing my random guided meditation. That’s too much.

I keep the noise-blocking headphones on and decide silence is what’s needed.

I remember my Vipassana days:
Focus only on the breath.
The cool air at the space above the upper lip.
The warm exhale passing out of the nostrils.
In and out. Nothing else.

No self-help.
No personal development.
No learning new things for my clients.
No thinking about what I haven’t done—my reminders list is there for that.

Just the breath.
Just now.

Space.

That’s how I know it’s too much—when I can’t find space for stillness.

REST AS A RADICAL PRACTICE

It’s not about how much I’m doing. I am a juggler, after all.

It’s about whether there is space to take a break.
To put the balls down.
To sit and be.
To stop everything.

We are incredible machines capable of so much, but if we keep running without ever turning off the engine—checking the oil, letting the engine cool down—we eventually break down.

That is not my goal this month.

On the contrary, I want to be utterly excited. What a fucking cool life I GET to live.
Life isn’t forcing me into these things—I chose them.

Now it’s a question of balance.

Stillness doesn’t have to be hours a day.
It might be one minute before eating. I don’t have to check emails while chewing. I can just chew.

Thank goodness when I am with my somatic therapy clients, I can be fully present, my mind knows that for 1 hour, nothing else is allowed in.

During the breaks I can go stand on the balcony, and look at the ocean or even just feel the sun on my face for five minutes—not try to squeeze in a quick toilet scrub or sink clean and rush back to ground before the next session.

Don’t pick up my phone and add extra input unless necessary. Choose airplane mode when I want to stay on 1 task, even the roaming interferes with my distraction and bandwidth.

It doesn’t take much, but breaks are necessary for the nervous system to come back into a ventral vagal state. Relaxation and rest.

It’s like a HIIT routine: forty seconds all-out, ten seconds pause. The pause is what makes the intensity sustainable, improves heart rate and effectiveness of the workout.

I’m not exerting myself to maximum effort by juggling multiple activities, but the metaphor still works: rest is necessary for maximum efficiency.

A HOLIDAY INVITATION

It’s the holiday season.
I know many of you may be juggling vacations, family gatherings, friend gatherings, presents, and more.

I invite you to check in with your nervous system.

If you can’t be present in an activity, it might be a sign you’re overloaded. A mini break—stillness or exercise—might be exactly what shifts you back into experiencing life as something we GET to do, not HAVE to do.

Also, I know this season can bring up the good, the bad, and the ugly. I recommend taking needed breaks for self-care time.

Disappear into your childhood room while the whole family plays Pictionary.
Take a brisk walk.
Listen to a guided meditation or breath work practice (I recommend the Insight Timer App; it’s free with optional upgrades).
Or just find five minutes to sit and take in your environment, breathe and remember: this moment is essential too.

As for me, I’m monitoring myself and catching it when I’m all over the place. Right now I just looked out over the ocean, smiled, and took one full conscious breath.

I invite you to try it ∞