
I’m trying to restart my daily writing habit. It’s not an easy task once I’ve let it slide. It’s tougher to start at 2 in the afternoon after a morning of busyness. My mind has had at least 6 hours to be corrupted by useless and sometimes bad thoughts. But I can’t give up so quickly. It’s September, a new month, a new beginning. I can pretend I’m going back to school. I have to clean off my slate and sharpen my pencils. I have to muster up some curiosity and pep like the young person that I’m not.
Young I may not be but I can observe and learn from them. There’s a daycare two houses down. Last year they visited our garden and we visited theirs. The little ones were quite eager to show me what they got, taking my hand and tugging me along. They were all so curious about all the plants we had, showing such verbal and facial delight. I’ve learned a couple of lessons from these young tots. 1. Never be afraid to express delight, however you may or can. I know that it had made me so happy to witness it. 2. Don’t be afraid to share what you got. I was so happy to be taken by the hand to see their little tomatoes. They were sharing and not showing off.
Further up the street is a high school. I get to learn from bigger kids- teenagers. Their enthusiasm is not quite so outfront and obvious. They’re more sober/somber as they stroll by our house enroute to learning. Quite often they have things in their ears or looking at a phone in their hands. I’m not sure yet what I can learn from them except not to do as they do.
So ends this first day of school. It’s a good start. I’m happy that I could start with a middle and now the end.
















It’s been 2 months since I’ve last sat here. I’m fighting the urge to rise and make myself another cup of tea/coffee. It’s uncomfortable being in this space again, trying to tap, tap out the letters, words, thoughts. The space is bigger, wider. I’m a little lost, sloshing around, trying to find and touch the boundaries. I’m like the little seedlings starting out. They/I like the snugness of a small space. Our roots/limbs to feel the sides and edges. I like to think I’m more pliable though. I can s-t-r-e-t-c-h, reaching for the stars. I can grow. I have grown, haven’t I? There! Now I’ve earned that time out for that cuppa before continuing.
I have my cuppa decaf. Somehow I feel better having something to sip on. It’s better/healthier than a lit cigarette on an ashtray. That’s my old self – a cigarette before/while doing. That’s one way I have grown – physically healthier. I’m leaner and less mean, thanks to my three times a week aerobics class and a swim once a week. The mean part is mostly in my mind. I don’t think I’m a mean person but I always fault myself for not being kinder, for being such a grump and ranting so much. I still have those feelings sometimes. I no longer mind my inability to be ‘kinder’. I’m kinder to myself. I rant because I’m not one for status quo and don’t rock the boat. How can things improve that way? I’ll be like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, waking up to the same day, same tune on the radio every day.
Practice makes for better. It’s a good place to stop. I like challenges. Everything is a challenge to me. And I grumble about the hardness of all that. But the grumbling is me trying to find that comfort zone, that snugness, the space to breathe in and out and to start again. What I know for sure is that we have to start – again and again, discarding what doesn’t work, keeping the good stuff.