I'm going quiet for a while.
Yes, even quieter.
I'll see you on the other side.
I want to wake up at 6AM.
Perhaps more accurately, I want to want to wake up at 6AM.
And do I want to go to bed at 10PM, or even at 11PM? No, not really.
Oh, and here's a little known fact: most of the time, I do wake up at 6AM -- and then I roll over and go back to sleep. Because I can. Because I want to.
So, yeah. Complicated.
(I'll keep you posted.)
What if it doesn't have to be perfect?
No, seriously, what if it doesn't have to be perfect at all?
What if it's safe to relax?
What if it's okay to have fun?
What if not-perfect is still really, really good?
What if not-perfect is better?
I'm going to the beach tomorrow, and I'm staying for a week.
I've been trying not to build up too many expectations, and in fact, I don't have many. So long as I get to commune with the ocean, all will be well.
...rehearsing for this Thursday's concert.
...exploring new work possibilities.
...celebrating my birthday.
...reading Our Town with my daughter.
...remembering my choice to be one of the poets, to be someone who, at least some of the time, if only for brief instants, appreciates the wonder of life.
...playing my beautiful, newly repaired guitar, and feeling grateful to have it back.
...wearing purple palazzo pants.
All in all, it's been a very full month, and a beautiful one. I have a feeling that next month may be even more amazing.
I'm still here. I'm feeling quiet these days, yes. Nevertheless, I am here, and I am glad to be here.
I'm glad you're here, too.
I've been thinking about pleasure lately, for a number of reasons.
I suspect that the more we think about pleasure -- the more we notice it -- the more we experience.
So, I want to try a brief experiment here. I want to see whether I can list thirty things -- thirty pleasures -- that I have experienced today. Just today.
Can I do it? Let's find out!
1. While driving, I saw a beautiful blue sky with soft, puffy white clouds.
2. When I dropped my daughter off at school this morning, she gave me her usual goodbye: a gentle head butt, forehead to forehead. Not a kiss, because she doesn't want to smear her lipstick on my face. The head butt is somehow sweeter and more intimate than a quick kiss would be.
3. I am wearing a lovely light silver satin top...
4. ...and a long black velvet skirt that feels soft and plush.
5. I made a quiche for dinner tonight, and there were so many wonderful aspects of this, including the thunk of the knife going through the onion...
6. ...the lingering scent of onion on my hands...
7. ...the softening and glistening of the onions as they were sauteed in butter...
8. ...the smell of bacon frying...
9. ...the taste of the goat cheese crumbles, smooth and creamy and flavored with onion and basil.
10. The sound of classical music on the radio, strings and winds and rippling piano.
11. The light, sweet, bouncy, energetic sound of the Broadway musical my daughter and I listened to while driving.
13. The luxury of a midmorning nap.
14. Being playful and making my family laugh.
15. The glide of my pen across the pages of my journal.
16. The vanilla-peppermint fragrance of a candle in a store.
17. The lemony minty taste of the water I drank.
18. The loving look a certain someone gave me.
19. The relief of waking up from an upsetting dream, and realizing that it was a dream.
20. The amazingly lovely feeling of stretching in the morning.
21. The purring cat curled up in my lap.
22. The color orange.
23. The feel and fragrance of my favorite soap...
24. ...and how soft my hands felt after using it.
25. The pattern on the cover of my journal...
26. ...especially the pink bird.
27. Back to that quiche: the realization of how much I enjoy cooking now, how satisfying and relaxing it has become.
28. The relief of shifting from an uncomfortable position to a more comfortable one.
29. Waking up early enough to not have to get out of bed right away.
30. Getting to number 30.
How about you? What pleasures have you experienced today?
You found me standing at the crossroads
and you assumed I was unsure
of where to go and what to do.
It wasn't true. I liked the view.
I know I'm not the only one. I know there's nothing particularly unique or extraordinary about this.
I am ready for spring.
It feels extraordinary, this readiness. I am ready to awaken, after a time of hibernation, of rest.
It may take time, and that's all right. I like to wake up slowly. That's a luxury that I enjoy.
I am ready. I am ready.
I am ready for spring.