Yesterday, self-doubt collected like dust in the fan of my busy brain, familiar mental chatter locking me out of the present. I took a nap and meditated and — POOF — I was fresh and new and ready to tackle even the most boring of geography homework.
- sang new songs I’m writing
- walked in the sun
- lunched with my bestie and she said “your brain is a Hungry Hungry Hippo,” which is both the truest statement and the most wonderfully graphic one, and also reveals that she has known me for 40 years and mercifully still hangs onto this train
- celebrated two months with this plant, the longest I’ve ever managed to keep a plant alive, and I’m guessing it’s because it’s a Christmas cactus and nobody knows better than I how to keep Christmas alive
- got good news
- reframed an old writing project so I can pick it up again
- did a whole bunch of boring worksheets and then was able to bask in knowing that they are done
I just finished reading Dinosaurs by Lydia Millet, a glittering little jewel that reflects the light we see in small everyday connections with others. Books, man. Books.
I keep meaning to clean off that window ledge (and the window, and the porch beyond) but my time is precious.