The Peace of the Day

My brain has been snapping with ideas for this series ever since I started it. When I sit down to write, I can pull from many half-baked musings, brilliant-sounding phrases, and indecipherable middle-of-the-night scribbles. There’s this sense of urgency. I feel I will never run out of things to say.

But this afternoon I feel spacy. My spouse is doing one of her long shifts again (she’s been going twice a week to the hospital, but her hours add up to full time). I savor my solitude, but also feel unnerved, knowing just a bit of what she’s dealing with at work.

After walking Opal and reading Some Writer!, I melted into the couch for a while and felt my body breathing. It seemed so essential to stop moving, stop thinking, and just attend to my physical being. I even felt an upwelling of joy.

To spring from that spacious place into a super-duper wordy one… doesn’t seem possible. It seems right to stay in a bit of a fog today. Like maybe that fog honors the magnitude of what we’re going through.

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A recent foggy morning on the golf course. Yeah, it’s kind of like that.

So often I go around with my eyeballs and my jaw trying to run the show. My mind scrabbles for control, and says, “Get your ducks in a row.” I’m usually quite good at pushing myself.

I could. I just don’t want to. Resting might be my major contribution to the peace of the day. Letting the notion of control slip away. The world doesn’t need me to add more rigidity and drivenness to its orbit.

When in doubt, insert a quote. From Charlotte’s Web:

“I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what’s a life, anyway? We’re born, we live a little while, we die. A spider’s life can’t help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone’s life can stand a little of that.”

Gratitude: Breath. Body. Life.

Tip of the Day: Is it time to rest? To let fog descend for a time…trusting it will lift again?

Resource of the Day: I was captivated by this 5-minute message of hope from a British molecular biologist/activist.

“All that I Hope”

If you know me, you know I love to read. I usually have multiple books going at once to suit different moods, plus an audiobook.

But ever since this shit got real a few weeks ago, I’ve had such a hard time focusing enough to dive deep into a book. I miss getting lost in literature. I seem to have only so much attention span, and have mainly used it up on work and this blog. And on endless scrolling for updates.

This week I’ve started to see some improvement in that arena though.

That’s partly due to a sweet surprise: Knowing my love of reading and how frustrated I’ve been to not be deep in a good book right now, a writer friend left this luminous book on my porch earlier this week.

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It is a wonderfully creative mix of art and text depicting the life of Charlotte’s Web author E.B. White.

(A quote:

“All that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world.”

Amen, E.B.)

So the last few mornings, instead of going to my smartphone before/during/after breakfast, I have held off, and instead enjoyed dipping into this treasurehouse. I go from there to my walk, instead of checking the latest, and from my walk to my work desk.

It is tactile instead of digital. That’s a plus. It strikes me that part of my struggle with reading right now is the reading material would be mediated through my Kindle, because the library is closed. And that’s one more screen in a day of already more screen time than I’m used to. (This feels like a mighty petty concern in the scheme of things.)

In any case, it really makes a difference in my mental and emotional state when I monitor my media intake. I can’t do anything about the news, and some stories completely unseat me, so it’s best if I take it in small doses. Even if it is history in the making, I don’t have to follow every single development.

Gratitude: Language, literature, creativity, life. Also: my neighbors’ magnolia tree, which I see from my front window. It glows even brighter on overcast and rainy days.

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Magnolia tree on a recent rainy morning

Tip of the Day: If there is a habit that doesn’t support your resilience (like my morning smartphone-checking), what if you replaced it with something else, just for a day? And then see how it feels. And if it feels good, try it again the next day.

Resource of the Day: Wendell Berry reads his poem about hope in this Bill Moyers clip.