Sometimes my capacity for bitterness amazes even me. So let this be a gratitude post. Here’s to rocks that spell love out of ancient debris and planetary pressure.
Here’s to the animal companions who model joy and devotion and health without even being asked.
Here’s to the creative impulse which follows seasons and rhythms all its own, thankfully exhibiting an immunity to doubt and self-posturing.
Here’s to the birds that sing, to cleared off sidewalks, to the bobbing red head of the woodpecker out front, and to spring bulbs that continue their flourishing growth long after the flowers are gone.
And lastly, to all sources of wisdom, both unseen and seen, as well as to the tiny window of the personality willing to be cranked open and let them in (at least sometimes), I give Thanks.
PS. That cap “T” is one erroneous autocorrect that I’ll let stand. I give Thanks.
Something in Jude’s blog got me thinking about how routines can be shelters, too. I rely on writing practice and calendar markings to create places of both rest and dynamism.
Daily pages were almost entirely abandoned in the press of the holidays. I don’t know why. But — never mind! I did my three pages today.
Over on Instagram, I’m taking part (somewhat informally) in a yearlong effort called: #theunreadshelfproject2018. I want to read more generally and specifically, I’d like to finish some of the many books I’ve started but then set down for one reason or another.
As part of that effort, I’ll be tracking my reading here — not book reviews per se (plenty of others writing those — many of whom are paid to do so) — more like idiosyncratic (random?) responses.
The bitter cold continues and we’re supposed to get a foot of snow on Thursday. We are back to a pack of three.
Two or three inches fell. It felt like a surprise but it shouldn’t have.
It was a week of honoring my basic preferences and screwing up the courage to say ‘no’ in order to do so. One small ‘no’ helped me say a much bigger ‘no’ a few days later.
Both refusals created a feeling of spaciousness and relief. Confirming feelings.
Itchy ambivalence can usually be resolved in favor of one’s own need, experience, and felt sense of the world. To not do so is to stay itchy.
Pretty basic, especially for a sixty year old, but it’s amazing (and common?) how quickly clarity can be clouded by others’ needs or by anxiety about self assertion.
I don’t need to say more now. Just this: it was a week to remember that I bought my first book from Shambala press in 1973. I still have that volume (by Chogyam Trungpa) 43 years later, which is really saying something — do you know how many books didn’t make the cut?
What happens to you when you don’t honor your basic preferences and how do you course correct?
Bitterly cold here again today and I hear that more snow is on the way.
Have a great weekend!