I hit almost every red light on my drive to work but it just gave me more time to sing along with the radio. Walking through the parking ramp, inhaling and relishing the cool morning air, underlying dampness foretells a hot day. The florescent lamps, ever present, are drowned out by birdsong and I take another sip of coffee before looping the other half of my mask around an ear. There are a few people in the building, yet quiet is predominant. A “good morning” to the maintenance man, journey through the hallway of broken chairs and the pat pat pat of my steps on the concrete stairs brings me back to work. Happy Friday.
The sun is out today after a couple weeks of it hiding, taking my energy with it. I’m forcing myself to sit outside, take in the fresh air, and eat something besides pancakes. Clove is here with me and seems to have forgotten what being outside is like, too distracted to notice I’m eating carrots.
The sounds are a blend of what I’ve become used to in the present, and a pang of nostalgia.: Construction, cars driving by, a dog barking from a neighbor’s yard. Someone appears in our shared back-bit of nature with a plastic bag, and the sweet call of a morning dove quiets. I’m annoyed until I see they are picking up trash. I feel both shame for my reaction and gratitude that people still exceed expectation in simple goodness.
Clove is munching on her arugula and I, my carrots. A slight breeze waves the top of the container and disperses the sparse amount of loose fluff on her. This is good for both of us.
Maybe Spring inside of us is just as messy as Spring outdoors. With all of it’s back and forth, between freezing and melting, sunshine and gloom, our hearts go through it too. When will my chest pains push flowers from my bones, will this digging and searching inside yield the treasure I buried to hide through winter? Things are stirring in my soil, unseen. I guess I’ll keep seeking sunshine for my Spring.
The wind is making the trees dance in the setting sun. Spinning seeds find their way to me from an empty sky It is not quiet, yet it is peaceful. When this type of breeze makes my hair caress my arms and strands cross my face, I feel as if I must be important, strong. There is no booming, no cracking or roaring. Instead the power is quiet, soft and still beautiful.
I wonder if the wind has ever known where it’s going. As far as I can tell, it just goes. I want to be like the wind; beautiful in my collected chaos, freely fulfilling my purpose, not worried about where I’m headed.
The rain patters quietly outside of her open window, punctuated by a car alarm honking forlornly in the distance. Placing her hands on either side of her mug, the warmth seeps into her fingers and she breathes in, herbal cadence blending with fresh rain smell. It had been a long day, discouraging but she couldn’t let up just yet. She wrinkled her nose slightly, noting that the trash was not a list item that she could put off any longer. A blank spot on the opposing wall gained her steady gaze as she pondered the complex weight on her mind. How is it that no matter how much was ever accomplished in either her personal or professional life, it felt like no progress was made?
There was no answer of course. Not this time at least, so she rose from her spot on the floor to stare into the refrigerator. No food looked appealing, either requiring effort and time or unsettling her fickle appetite. She sighed. When did eating become just another item on her list of things to do? The neighbor’s bass thrummed through the wall and she finally grabbed a loaf of bread, throwing a couple slices in the toaster. She jumped when they popped up, what felt only a few seconds later. Butter. Absentmindedly, the previously utilized fork on the counter was used to spread the slices before she once again sank to the floor.
She couldn’t have turned into a robot entirely. Robots don’t care about food. The real question was, what else did she actually, truly, care about? Once again, no answers presented themselves so she continued to study the blank space on the wall and munch on the half-done toast.
Hello friends and strangers, I must apologize for my extended absence. Life has been complicated lately. I know, when is it not. Battling burnout at my job, taking a wonderful trip from which I had to return, exhaustion and getting sick, focusing on my immediate space instead of the cerebral, and quite frankly, lack of wonder and inspiration in my everyday life; these are the things I blame for my lack of posting.
My eating and sleeping have been most impacted. Vivid dreams leave me tired and confused when I wake up. Interest in food or the energy to make it are in short supply.
This morning though, staying home to stream church instead of exposing people to whatever my body is fighting, I found that pocket of contentment. Nothing is perfect. I dropped my beautiful cheese toast face down on the rabbit-fur-covered rug. My stomach is still upset, but I was able to enjoy sitting on the ground by the windows, soaking up the sun indoors, since the smoke from Canada has impacted air quality. The black berries and crisp pickle slices, that escaped the fall, were refreshing and Clove convinced me to hand over some of the fur-covered toast, allowing me to fit in a few smoothings of her velvety soft fluff. No, things are far from perfect but, life can still be good.
I was taught to smile at everyone. You never know what kind of day they are having, what they are going through, or the impact a simple smile could have.
I still smile at almost everyone. If I can make even a small difference that way, it’s worth it.
Looking in the mirror today, tired, I smiled at myself. Then realized, I don’t remember the last time I genuinely smiled at me; not a pose for a picture, not customer service, not a reaction to someone or something else but instead extending that kindness inward.
Self love, worth, and identity are lifelong struggles for a lot of people on varying levels, whether it’s body issues, awkwardness, trauma or circumstances. I don’t have everyday solid advice, since humans are very complex with varying situations.
But, can you do me a favor, dear friends and strangers? Can you smile at yourself like you would a stranger, friend, or family member? Please be kind to yourselves.
The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.
A breeze keeps blowing my loose strands of hair into my face and if I tilt my head just right, I can see a threading of web reflecting light through the blades of grass. The smell of someone grilling and the sound of birdsong mix now with the quiet clack of the keyboard. I am somehow in a different life but it is my own.
I haven’t read an actual book in maybe, over a year. Someone was kind enough to send me one off of my Amazon wishlist, suggested by my mentor. It’s so beautiful outside today again, after most of the week being rain and snow. Going on a walk is suggested but the mentally tired bug bit me earlier today and was not shaken. Resting outside, reading for the first time in forever, carding my fingers through the velveteen fur of my rabbit, has melted the work day away.
It’s not just any book either. It’s not an escape (which I am constantly seeking) or a cover up. It requests that I face reality and ask myself hard questions.
we need to figure out where we are before we plot a course forward
Bob Goff – Dream Big
I am urged to open my eyes, take a clear look at everything I think about myself and why, sort through my desires and ambitions as if doing an internal spring cleaning, and truly put in the work to make my life what I long for it to be.
No more doing what merely occupies, entertains, and numbs us?
Bob Goff – Dream Big
Can you be honest with yourself? How difficult is it for you? As the light fades into evening and the breeze becomes chilled, I will go back inside but take these questions with me.
From only three chapters into the book, I already highly suggest it. Have you heard of it? Read it? Dream Big by Bob Goff
I often find myself wishing for “back when things were simple” or “the good ol’ days” but when I really think about it, I can’t tell exactly when that was. Was it last year? (No, not 2020. We don’t count 2020 as last year yet.) Was it the year that I moved out of my parents house, completely on my own to a different state? Was it my time in college, or highschool? Maybe it was when we lived in what we thought was our dream house, when the internet still went skeerrrrrrrreeeeeeeeee, or I would play for hours outside by myself.
When I think of these times generally, most of them don’t strike me as the best time in my life. I know all of the struggles and the shadows on the other side of the bright spots that can reflect as “the best”. Has anyone out there mastered the perspective of seeing the past and the present for what they actually are in relation to each other?
The past sure feels like simpler times when my hippocampus lazily floats a memory to my neo-cortex, packaged up so prettily in nostalgia and sunshine. Yes, I went on a tangent and looked up which parts of the brain are responsible for memory. Brains are super interesting. I could go on a multitude of rabbit trails about brains but I digress.
I’m not sure what to do with this information. I try to frame my present as a good time and fight against the skewed image that the past was the best time of my life. A lot of it wasn’t. Part of the reason for this site is to bring that good, that simpler time into my present. I have so many ideas I want to explore but am not quite sure how to get there. My next blurb should (hopefully) be something more in that realm of things I’m passionate about.
Thank you for reading this post of ramblings. It is not nearly what I consider good content but I told myself that I would work through and towards my future here, on this site and this is part of it.
May we find the simple things in our days, the good in our times.