Permission to Savour

Moments that matter and how to make the most of them

It’s the day before my book launches.

Yippee! Yahoo! Yikes!

Yup, make no mistake there’s a fair amount of Yikes in me right now.

This moment has been years in the making - since COVID, in fact, if that gives you any idea of what a ridiculously long gestation period this book has had. Years of writing, rewriting, and wrestling words onto the page. Years of living the ideas I’ve tried to capture - of trying to capture the ideas I’ve lived.

Now, here I am — here I am! - on the cusp of it all being released into the world. And my feelings are…mixed.

You’d imagine today would feel like pure joy: I did it! I’ve arrived!

Of course there is joy. Pride, too, in what I’ve created. I’m honestly a little bit in love with my book and deeply proud that I managed to get it ready to face the world.

But woven throughout the joy is vague unease. Nerves - perhaps obviously. A quiet thrum of fear. When I feel that fear most acutely, I turn to look at it. What are you so afraid of, Jill? The only answer I have for myself: I’m afraid of tomorrow.

Inner Satisfaction versus Outer Striving

I’m navigating the pull between the inner and outer: the private satisfaction of knowing I’ve poured myself into this book versus the public scoreboard that waits for me tomorrow. Copies sold. Charts climbed. Reviews written. Reactions tallied.

How easy is it to slip into the chase for approval? We’re conditioned for that chase - told it’s the only game that counts. To go hunting for numbers that promise to declare me good and right. To measure my worth against external markers that, in truth, will never fully satisfy.

In my worst moments, that chase paralyses me. I lose myself in the swirl of strangers’ opinions and imagined verdicts. Fear from the outside creeps in and takes over my insides.

In my best moments, I come back into myself. Return to the quiet joy of creation. To the fact that this book exists. That it holds my voice, my story, my lessons and insights — my hope.

My book is ready to walk out into the world —I got it there! - and whatever happens next, that cannot be taken away.

The Subtle Art of Savouring

In The Ten Permissions, I talk about the difference between striving and savouring and why we need both. How we’ve been taught to strive but never been allowed to savour.

Striving is always reaching for the next marker — the next goal, the next round of applause, the next “enough.”

Savouring is different. Savouring invites you into presence. It roots you in the here and now. It asks you to taste the fullness of the moment without rushing on to the next target.

I experience that savouring as a kind of slowing down, a quiet in my head and heart. I experience it as a coming into myself, into moments that could easily be raced through.

It’s like a deep breath and full exhale all at the same time: I’m here. I’m OK. I’m safe.

Today, I know exactly which one I need. I know which one really matters. And this process has reminded me of just how critical that deliberate permission to savour really is. Because if I don’t give it to myself, I’ll race through this moment and rob myself of all its joy.

My very own Permission Slip

So here it is — my own permission slip, written to myself on the eve of my launch:

Permission to savour.

Permission to sit in the sweetness of what is today, not the hunger for what might be tomorrow. Permission to trust that this moment is whole, complete, worthy of joy in itself.

Tomorrow, the book will belong to readers. Tomorrow, the outside world will have its say. But today, it belongs to me. And today, I choose not to strive. I choose to savour.

It’s OK. I’m allowed.