It’s that time again wherein I sit down, get down to business and write. What should I write about? Should I tell you about my day, my humdrum every day? I’m a morning person now. Been so for quite a few years. I look forward to getting up between 6 and 7. Seems like there’s a lot to look forward to – even in these times. Though I’m feeling a little stressed, cranky and a bit down in the dumps, I haven’t lost that looking forward feeling. Thank God. I do have a bit of attitude but I don’t want to have nothing to look forward to one. I have standards.
I am trying to break loose of ‘stuck’ with nowhere to go and no stars to reach for. It’s not a good feeling and I don’t want to stay in it. Exercise has always worked great for me. I was looking forward to heading back to the YWCA pool and swimming. The universe has other plans for me. The pool needs ‘fixing’. It’s been out of service for a couple of months already. So, it’s back to the AM ENERGIZER. It really is one. I’m feeling so much better already after one session. I’m sure I will feel it tomorrow, not having used those muscles for quite awhile.
I decided it might be a good exercise to visit the library again. It was one of my favourite places before Covid. Why can’t it be again? I am disappointed that it is not the same. It does not have the same scope of material it once did. Seems like the city politicians are slashing the wrong budgets, not seeing the importance and scope of the public service the library provides. It’s good for education, socializing and mental health just to name some. Should we just throw up our hands, accept and say. Oh well? Or are there things we can do? It is something to think about while we are stuck here in this Covid time.
Having come back to my keyboard and tapping my heart away, I am not feeling as overwhelmed. I think I have all my tax receipts gathered. This month’s bills are paid. I am doing my daily drawing and watercolour. My desk and dining room table are littered with papers, pens, paint and whatnot. They are a disaster but there is no emergency. I’ve set a goal that I would date and label my creations each day. I would find something/somewhere to hold them in one place. Baby steps as one might say. I really hate that term because I am no longer a baby.
Well, there you have it. Another day, another post. No Pulitzer Prize here. Just some words. They still count.
March 17th, Wednesday morning. It’s almost 9 am. The sun is weak like tepid tea. I am, too. No get up and go. I sit, sip and tap. There’s no need to rush off to anything. I used to like to sew my quilt blocks in the early morning. It was still in the winter dark. I would turn on my feel good bright lamp, the radio and the fireplace. It was cosy and comforting, stitching up, cutting and ironing. All the while I’m listening to what is happening in Saskatchewan.
Now that the sun is rising earlier I rather sit and bask in its bright or not so bright light. I’ve had my fill of listening to the radio, especially the news. It’s all about the Covid, the vaccines and side effects. Have you noticed that all conversations are about that? It is all so very heavy and fatiguing. And yet we can’t seem to talk about anything else. Our National news is the same. The whole hour mostly focused on that, night after night for a whole year now. Oh, Donald Trump and the U. S. election did break through. But what about the rest of the world, the rest of life?
I am getting rather comfortable in my little bubble. I am happy with sewing my quilt squares, starting seedlings and messing and checking up in the greenhouse. I am reluctant to venture out. A trip to Costco was a major deal in my head. I had to take the guy with me. When we got there, it was no big deal. He was handy in pushing the cart and unloading things into the car. I feel I always struggled with bulky and weighty packages. Even visits with my parents feels big and problematic. I would have to do some head and mind clearing first. What a sad sack I am, heh?
My first vaccine shot is about 2 weeks away. I think I will head back to the gym and pool a couple of weeks after that. I miss the challenge of physical activity. It is the best medicine for my physical and mental health. It’s a-get-out-of-the-house prod. Being dour by nature, I have to work very hard to be in a good mental space. It’s a good thing. I have something to do all the time. I could not very well stay in a puddle or down the rabbit hole. I’m a very slow learner. I’m slow at everything but like the tortoise I can win some races.
Here’s my autobiography by Portia Nelson:
Autobiography in Five Short Chapters I. I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost. I am helpless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out. II. I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I still don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I am in the same place. It isn’t my fault. It still takes a long time to get out. III. I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it there, I still fall in. It’s habit. It’s my fault. I know where I am. I get out immediately. IV. I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it. V. I walk down a different street.
Nowadays I find myself asking the question of for what purpose to many things. The biggest being: For what purpose was I born? Then there are those endless smaller ones. Why am I doing anything? I feel as if I’ve lost purpose and heart. I am Alice falling down the rabbit hole. And so now I am tapping out my anguish bland state of mind. If I don’t, would my mind have the energy to work up a frenzy?
There’s seems to be a purpose for words though, for the tapping of the keyboard. It feels much like a resuscitation of my will, my heart and mind. It is a mystery how it works. Perhaps there’s acupressure points on my fingertips. Whatever and however, I am grateful for a little revival of my spirit. I don’t quite have enough passion to work up a sweat yet. Who knows where the next tap will lead. The point is, I’m moving some body parts. Fingers count. Talking about fingers, I do have some good news. The pain is gone from my left hand. Hallelujah! I’ve had it since May – 10 months ago. It’s almost enough reason to feel joy.
Dang! February is hard. There’s more warnings for extreme cold temperatures for the next while. We did not really feel it today. It being so calm and sunny. Sheba and I went for our twice daily walks. She even hollowed out a nest in the snow and laid in it in the afternoon. Perhaps she thought she was an Eskimo.
It is another day, another cold one. It was -31 Celsius this morning. Driving across the bridge, I could not see far ahead, not beyond to the other side. The mist from the river and the exhaust from the cars occluded everything. I was thinking of the cold but not about minding it. Instead, I felt grateful that I’m not in other parts of the world that have floods, mud slides, volcanoes, earthquakes and the likes. What’s a little cold? I was sitting snug and warm in my car. I have warm clothes. I was not suffering at all.
The moment of gratitude changed my flat mood and attitude. My thoughts affect how I feel but I do have command of what I think. I can see the glass half full or I can see the glass half empty. I don’t have to think of or see the glass at all. I can just watch my thoughts in my mind like a ticker tape parade. I can watch and let them go, forming no opinions and attaching no emotions. It’s a breakthrough moment.
Breakthrough moments are catalysts for change. I shall not waste it. There are already many moments today when I feel myself slipping, sliding back into old habitual thoughts and feelings. I feel the familiar tugs but I am showing a backbone and resisting. I will not be slip sliding away. I will not be disappearing.
I am trying get back up to speed. I am trying to pick up where I have left off. I hope my words come back. It is an exercise, you know – this tapping out my thoughts, my angst, my loves and hates. The feel of the keys beneath my fingertips is rhythmic and soothing. It’s like a drumming, like a song and dance coaxing the letters and words onto the page.
How am I doing with my shoe boxes and drawers of dread? Today I am braving my fears. I am daring enough to open Pandora’s Box to look inside. I have survived the first round. The shoe have dropped and nothing catastrophic has happened – no explosions nor Jack coming out of his box. It is like waking up from a dream. There is no destruction. It’s the hurricane that never happened.
Life is like a dream in my head. I have to live and just stop thinking and analyzing so much. The stuff in my head can lead me astray. They are falsehoods and impostors posing as the real meal deal. I will not follow them down the yellow brick road. My heart is my true North Star. I know it will not lead me astray. When I am lost and in doubt, I always listen to my heart and that gut feeling.
This month of November has been long and gruelling. I am not too proud to ask for help. So I send out my smoke signals and SOS. I haven’t been a good girl guide nor sailor in the past, choosing instead to suffer in silent pride. I have fallen many times. It is a testimony to the saying pride goeth before fall.
I sip my Chai, tapping out my words. I am listening to the beat of my heart and the whisper of the Universe. I am re-writing through a different picture frame, wanting to see my glass half full instead of half empty. Tap, tap, tap. The letters and words come painstakingly slow onto my page. I feel the keys beneath my fingertips. I hear the tap, tap in my head, clearing debris, making space for ideas and good thoughts. December is going to be an awesome month.
A new day of a new month – June. The morning was overcast and cool. It was not inviting. I did not bounce out of bed with glee. I lingered in the warmth of my bed, hesitating like a shy bride, putting off the inevitable.
The inevitable came, of course. I had to face the music. I thought it best that I be a sport and do it with gusto. Life deserved to be treated with respect. I grabbed Sheba and headed out for an early morning trot.
My attitude changed once we hit the great outdoors. The fresh air stirred my senses. The streets were fragrant with trees in bloom.
The playground was alive with children running under the water spraying dragon. The parents watched on the side benches.
Then there was the school yard full of golden dandelions. How beautiful they looked. I no longer thought of them as weeds. They were a hundred million miracles that I had blogged about. I am sure not everyone will agree with that!
I am so happy that I was able to get up, dress up and show up for June. I’m all aglow along with the cherry bush in its first blush of blossoms. And Sheba approves.