For the past few months I’ve been experimenting with The Artist’s Way technique of writing three long-hand pages before getting out of bed in the morning as way to clear out detritus, set a tone for the day, and hopefully get to some inspirational creative nugget. Though the nuggets have been few and far between for me, I’ve found the process useful in breaking the habit of going right to my phone with its tasky emails and social media rants about disturbing items in the morning’s news cycle.

It’s also been useful to write down intentions of what I’d like to accomplish for the day, remembering that I don’t need to beat myself up for not completing everything I’ve set out to do; I just need to remind myself of the direction I’ve set, and gently pivot back if I’m veering off-course (or re-assess if the new course I’m on seems more right for the moment). Since I’m still in the throes over-achiever recovery, my intentions can sometimes feel like a laundry list of everything I might like to get done, as impossible to pull off as finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. But seeing, day after day, how ridiculously long my lists can be, and taking time to express gratitude for what I have achieved at the end of each day has been helpful in setting my sights a tad more realistically.

I was discussing this a few days ago with Alice, my chevrutah, which loosely translates from Hebrew as a “learning partner.” Instead of studying Jewish texts, we’ve chosen to expand the Jewish practice of self-reflection and forgiveness during Elul (the month before New Year’s) into an ongoing practice of checking-in on personal growth, taking inspiration from Jewish and non-Jewish spiritual teachings, as well as in the countless gifts we get every day from immersing in the creative process and engaging with the natural world. Alice told me that the Hebrew word for intention, kavanah, is not so much about the tasks you aim to get done, but the quality with which you approach them.

So, for the last few days as I’ve written my list, I’ve expressed the kavanah to pay more attention and be more connected to whatever it is I’m doing, rather than thinking of it as an item to be quickly ticked off so I can get to the next thing as soon as possible.

Surprisingly, this has made me more relaxed in my writing practice. I’m not so worried about what the next big project might be, or if I’m doing the most important thing right now on my writing “to-dos.” I’m setting one writing intention a day of something to focus on and trying my best not to second-guess myself (which includes actively choosing not to write on days that are exceptionally busy, rather than feeling distracted and harried as I try to squeeze it in). And when a new path opens up (i.e. in the middle of doing submissions, a poem begs for a rewrite or a few lines pop into my head, or I get a brilliant idea for a new story) I let myself wander off the path, the way my husband and I often follow unmarked trails in the woods, confident that we know the local forests (just as I know my own internal map) well enough to find our way back home.

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