Trusting – last week I shared with you my mantra: “What is your job, right now?” I have another one that I’ve repeated to myself for far longer. I grew up thinking that I was tragically flawed, that I would never deserve happiness. The roots of this type of thinking are long and scraggly and don’t really deserve to see the light of day (unless they’re on the compost pile). I made several (or perhaps I should say many) decisions that led me to heartbreak. These decisions were not bad decisions, they just turned out badly; I learned something good and valuable from each and every one of them. At one point, in the late 90s, I was sitting in a skeevy hotel with my dog and a small suitcase, nothing else. I had just dismantled my life and was trying to build it up from scratch, but seriously, it was a pretty bleak time. In order to keep myself from despair, I thought, “As sad as you are right now, you’ll someday be that happy. As lonely as you are right now, you’ll someday be that comforted.” Whatever I was feeling that was negative, I would remind myself that one day, I would feel the opposite. (And yes, I do occasionally remind myself when I’m very happy, that my day for sadness will come again.). I still trust in the balance of life. In times of difficulty, it is good to remember that peace is just around the corner.
Grateful – A recent warming trend has melted off a goodly bit of the snow in my neck of the woods much earlier than it usually does. I’ve had the opportunity to explore the nighttime terrain of my yard as I’ve wandered with my ailing dog. Yesterday morning around five, I stood and listened the sound that the water was making as it traveled just below the ice over the stream – musical chuckling and clinking like a far off cocktail party. In the trees, a host of pine siskin added swags of sparkling grace notes. I am grateful for the quietude to experience this moment, and I promise to stop listening to my internal chatter so closely and start listening to the real world more often.
Inspired – What can I say?
Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea, see the titbits and topsyturvies, bobs and buttontops, bags and bones, ash and rind and dandruff and nailparings, saliva and snowflakes and moulted feathers of dreams, the wrecks and sprats and shells and fishbones, whale-juice and moonshine and small salt fry dished up by the hidden sea.
-Dylan Thomas from Under Milkwood