What I didn't have and what I found
My morning did not go the way I thought it would. I did not have coffee. I did not have breakfast.
I chewed through four pieces of gum. And then, lunch time. I did not have a lunch with me. (I wasn't supposed to be staying the whole day.) I did not have a book with me. I went outside and there is a typical January crispness, so different from what we have been experiencing lately.
I did not have a hat. I did not have a scarf.
The wind blew in and touched my collarbone, my wrists, those tender places that are often covered up this time of year. I walked to the local library and briefly browsed their young adult section (and I must be a masochist on some level). I walked down to a sandwich shop, feeling the crisp air on my skin. Keep walking through the field of yuck. The magic is on the other side. (As one of my yoga teachers talked about on Saturday.) The pounding headache, the crankiness, all of it. Field of yuck. Walking, breathing, feeling. I went into the store and greeted the person behind the counter as I always loved being greeted when I worked behind a counter. Another of the sandwich artists looked up and smiled, genuinely, and asked how I was. He recognized me. I got a sandwich, chips, and dried apples. I read. I breathed. I worked on chilling the heck out.
I walked to a local grocery store for a snack for later in the afternoon, since we're going running tonight. I kept noticing the crispness of the air. Not caring if my hair looked insane. Not caring about the traffic lights that made me stop at the corner. Simply enjoying the time outside, in the freshness which burned my nose and clipped at my soft spots. It reminded me that I was still alive. That I have each and every moment to come back to the freshness. That the field of yuck is there, that I can go through it. I can choose, in the moment, to go through it.
And here I am, less than an hour before the end of my day. While everything that made me cranky earlier in the day is still present, I try to remember freshness. I try to let go of the storyline. I try to breathe. I try to remember to drink water. I try to remember that it's not about me. I try to remember that this world is full of freshness, right there, right now.
Sometimes, I just have to leave what I think I know to find it.
This entry was originally posted at http://dancingwaves.dreamwidth.org/861919.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
I chewed through four pieces of gum. And then, lunch time. I did not have a lunch with me. (I wasn't supposed to be staying the whole day.) I did not have a book with me. I went outside and there is a typical January crispness, so different from what we have been experiencing lately.
I did not have a hat. I did not have a scarf.
The wind blew in and touched my collarbone, my wrists, those tender places that are often covered up this time of year. I walked to the local library and briefly browsed their young adult section (and I must be a masochist on some level). I walked down to a sandwich shop, feeling the crisp air on my skin. Keep walking through the field of yuck. The magic is on the other side. (As one of my yoga teachers talked about on Saturday.) The pounding headache, the crankiness, all of it. Field of yuck. Walking, breathing, feeling. I went into the store and greeted the person behind the counter as I always loved being greeted when I worked behind a counter. Another of the sandwich artists looked up and smiled, genuinely, and asked how I was. He recognized me. I got a sandwich, chips, and dried apples. I read. I breathed. I worked on chilling the heck out.
I walked to a local grocery store for a snack for later in the afternoon, since we're going running tonight. I kept noticing the crispness of the air. Not caring if my hair looked insane. Not caring about the traffic lights that made me stop at the corner. Simply enjoying the time outside, in the freshness which burned my nose and clipped at my soft spots. It reminded me that I was still alive. That I have each and every moment to come back to the freshness. That the field of yuck is there, that I can go through it. I can choose, in the moment, to go through it.
And here I am, less than an hour before the end of my day. While everything that made me cranky earlier in the day is still present, I try to remember freshness. I try to let go of the storyline. I try to breathe. I try to remember to drink water. I try to remember that it's not about me. I try to remember that this world is full of freshness, right there, right now.
Sometimes, I just have to leave what I think I know to find it.
This entry was originally posted at http://dancingwaves.dreamwidth.org/861919.html. Please comment there using OpenID.