Morning story; enjoying the process

She woke up to Beethoven, the soothing yet startling strains of the woodwinds unraveling the edges of her sleep. The violas and cellos continued the unwinding, and suddenly, she was up. She checked in with herself. She knew she wanted pancakes.

Downstairs, she pet her beautiful dog. She put on water to boil for coffee and melted butter for the ‘cakes. She let herself out to pee, as well as her dog, and marveled again at the April warmth and the earliness of the light.

She decided to eat each pancake as it came off the pan, to save time, she thought, but also because she didn’t want to wait. She listened to a story about people wanting to see their loved ones’ bodies after they had died, and then a story about a man whose mother was having a heart attack and how he managed his mentally ill brother. It was time to make a smoothie. She got blueberry juice on her knuckles from the freezer bag, creating a nasty faux bruise.

She got in the car with her dog and her things and drove to the trailhead for a quick walk. The dog needed to get out the wiggles. She thought about being enough, she looked at the different colors in the spruce trees, and she wondered when these trails would inevitably become a swamp, impassable until next winter. She turned around earlier than normal to give herself enough time to get to school.

The drive was a treat; dry roads. She arrived to animal quarters at 7:50 am and learned that her help that morning wasn’t needed.

There is a certain feeling she gets when she has planned a plan and that plan is cancelled. It’s like floating. It’s like a balloon released from a child’s hand.

She goes back to her office, in the quiet, empty building. It’s been a hard couple of days for her. It often feels like her days are hard. Her friend last night told her she wasn’t too much, but she feels like that. Anyone who touches her will eventually hear the stories of feeling lost, feeling afraid, feeling sad.

But, she remembers, this blog is called Positive Affirmations for Women. So, she wants to leave whoever is reading this with a positive idea, one that connects with her little morning story. Keep on trying. Keep on trying to find lasting peace and happiness within your heart. Remember those who love and support you. Find safety in their embraces and in their words. Keep getting outside and be there, really be there. Enjoy the process.

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Two poems

At Djaruna’s funeral in July I was inspired by her poetry. I love her very much and feel close to her when I’m writing. It encourages me.

Remembrance

Every morning when my eyes open…dusty remembrances of the day past.

This time the slip of time between dreams and the dawn is perfect.

My vulnerability expresses itself fully.

Thoughts of regret, thoughts of fear, hopelessness.

This is my fertile soil for Love.

Working on Holiness

Meditate on the morning, remember to smell the bicycle ride.

You read your Rumi, you breathe knowing it.

You practice sitting upright, observing the little itches. 

You surround yourself with raw, authentic magazine and around tea talk about free will.

You use essential oils and clay tooth powder and little crystal sticks for your sweat

and still.

The ritual of making a cup of coffee

this is so sacred to you.

You keep your oily beans in a Mason jar in the pantry.

They rattle as you place the jar next to the grinder and the small glass French press. You’ve already brought out the heavy cream, it’s there too, in the glass bottle with the green lid.

You grind, shake into the press, fill with boiled water from the robin’s egg blue kettle from Angela.

You season the ceramic mug, the sea foam green one with the faint, small bird and the delicate cracks from the firing.

Pressed, poured, creamed,

and then the world stops and eyes closed you sip

and the creamy hot bitterness is perfection

and this is the holiest moment of your life

One-Year Anniversary Stream of Consciousness

Today is my one-year anniversary of writing in and creating my little online journal! Thank you for your interest. Here’s a little piece I wrote this morning.

Monday, January 20th, 2014 It doesn’t even feel strange to write “2014”. It’s like I never even “got in” to 2013. But I did in so many ways. I got in deep. I’m motivated to write this morning because I didn’t want to get sucked into the computer. Into Patchy or Sara business or Facebook (which I successfully avoided) or aimless searching for something good. But I know before I go to the co-op I’ll want to search a good leftover pulp veggie burger and how to make buckwheat muffins. In and out, I hope. Many days for small moments I feel as if I’m coming alive. Yesterday Henry and I were talking about “closet musicians” and he said something it’s fun to just play for yourself. For yourself. To consciously give yourself a gift because you love yourself. That hit me in a new way. Or like the lady on the radio was talking about yesterday, about Mozart (or maybe it was the man talking) and how in his mind inspiration would come in suddenly, like the fog lifts and you see a landscape you’ve never seen before. That’s what my mind is beginning to experience as it attains new levels of peace and comes out of the muck. My relationship is 95% easier. My growth is faster and feels more authentic, if that’s even possible. My musical ability is greater. I can stop eating when I’m full. What a concept, what a feat for me. The struggles are disappearing. My mind is rooting for me rather than attacking. I’m becoming a more graceful human being.