We check our watch when the cashier engages in conversation beyond the required, “Did you find everything that you were looking for today?” as if a trip to the grocery store is a treasure hunt.
I think December makes me acutely aware of that from which I feel trapped. It’s place in the evolution of the calendar year nudges us to look back and forward. Both directions bear weight.
This morning was an exercise in looking at the things I see every day in a slightly different way.
Life isn’t pretty all the time with contextual footnotes making each experiences’ meaning crystal clear. It’s an evolution of iterations that make us who we are, and it’s our choice to listen, learn, and love.
“Shush up,” she said. Looking down at her from the top of stairs, “Now that’s enough, go lay down.”
Ruby understood her vocation better than most. She arrived to fill a void.
This morning the alarm went off in the middle of a dream. It startled me. It’s been quite a while since I woke up to practice yoga on a Friday morning. It felt good to be back into my Friday routine.
XRT’s #AllVinylSaturday reminded me of the beauty of the record album. The reason why an artist makes an album is the same as me making a photo album. It’s a collection. There’s a theme. A common thread that runs through it. And listening to an album in its totality, you can fully appreciate the breadth of the artist’s talent. What a gift.
Note: I published my first draft last week. This is the version I will use today, Tuesday, January 30, when I lead my first Al-Anon class. The topic is Step…
And, as batshit crazy as I have been, I also respect what my body needs. It’s the only body I have so I better be good to it.
Sometimes, I feel like the battered wife, always coming home for more, but I have the role wrong. I should not identify with the one being battered, I should identify with the batterer. How many times I have questioned fate, and blamed God for the present and past.; decisions I made, yet wanted to distance myself from.
Every day Bridget and make at least one comment about the stench or frequency of their farts. I imagine an intestinal version of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate factory churning away emitting poisonous gases. Speaking of it now, I think that the Department of Defense should jar their farts and use them in combat. If you could intensify the odor, you’d likely knock down a whole country.
Melancholy. Numb. Ambivalent. Nothing good in those words. On most days I can flip those words inside out and find a bright side or silver lining, but today it’s just not there. Last Tuesday my friend had a bad day. She woke up angry. She could not put her finger on it. She thought maybe she was letting too many people manager her time. She went to read her usual pick me ups. She tried to journal. Nothing worked. I told her she was having an “I’m so bitchy I can’t stand myself” kind of day.
We need gray, rainy Mondays for without them we’d never appreciate the brilliant, sunny days. Yesterday, a winter thaw set in, the melted snow uncovered a shit ton of landmines in my backyard. Rose-colored glasses would neither camouflage dozens of newly revealed dog poops or mask their smell.
I don’t want to work for anyone anywhere. I want it to mean something and make a difference, and while that may sound Pollyannaish, it’s true and the truth is my north star. I want to inspire and be inspired.
I never fully considered the upside of “suffering” but after reading Janine’s poem this morning, I smiled. When I awoke this morning, I was intent on finding beauty today. I was intent on finding joy. I was intent on writing something uplifting this morning. I was intent on appreciating happiness. I found it in Janine’s poem.