After 5 years and 9 months of never missing one single Monday, I have to admit that the well is running dry. Most recently I have taken a few thinking breaks, pauses or whatever you want to call them, for 2 reasons. The first is feeling like I have little of consequence to say. Secondly, I felt if I took a real break, I might never start up again.
The second reason gives me the greatest consternation. Diving into blogging offered the opportunity to exercise my creativity. Since I lost my sight, other options that I might have enjoyed were no longer a consideration. So blogging became the thing.
My first thoughts were would I be able to follow through on a regular basis and if I got started and wanted to take a break, would I just let it go altogether? I decided to go for it and jumped into the deep end. After 5 years and 9 months, here I am.
The most important thing was actually giving myself permission to take a break. Just. How long of a break is unknown. maybe a week? A couple of weeks? A month? Maybe no break at all. The freedom I feel from giving myself that permission could be all I really needed. We’ll see.
(A clearer picture of this situation is in the previous posts Getting Started and A Rag Bag Of Hobbies.)
Sometimes everything gets out of sync. That’s me this week. Nothing particularly bad occurred. It’s just one of those things. Maybe something astrological is going on. Maybe I stepped on a crack in the sidewalk. Maybe I wore the wrong colored blouse on Tuesday. Maybe a whole lot of things. I suppose, when you come down to it, none of those things matter. The point is that I am a little discombobulated. Consequently, I am taking a pass this week. I’ll say no more because as Dr. Seuss puts it:
“So the writer who breeds more words than he needs, is making a chore for the reader who reads.”
Hope you all have a great week.
We forget sometimes, maybe often, how deeply our thoughts, words, and actions impact the people around us. We can take conscious responsibility for how powerfully our choices impact those around us. We get to choose how we want to show up when we walk into the coffee shop, take our seat on public transit, or call customer service. We have the option to recognize and revere our shared humanity, and be present to one another. Here is a little poem that embodies this point.
Small Kindnesses By Danusha Laméris
“I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”
Comments are welcomed.
The calendar has flipped once again. Some days it feels like the months are zooming by. April has been one of my favorites. That is due in part to my daughter, granddaughter and some very dear friends being born in April. What else about April? The truth is that my creative juice compartment seems to be temporarily empty. Thus, I’ve decided to simply share William Wordsworth’s poem, I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud as it focuses on one of April’s delights.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Comments are welcomed.