My Happy Day. December 17th. Each year I mark the date today. A remembrance of a delineation. An occasion of conscious choice toward following my gut in the face of Them and Supposed To. A day when I decided to find my way through a prolonged storm on a path unmarked. A not-yet path.
It is forgotten, often, to look up. To breathe in the ways the clouds skirt across the sky and to release one’s full weight into the earth. Forgotten, too often, to reflect upon routines as repeated choices when a moment of consideration would result in a change.
It is easy, on the surface, to follow. To flit. To fill one’s life with busy and bustle and the exponentially spread need for “hustle.” I can hide the hard that way. I see you doing the same.
Today, I’ll raise a glass, and offer cheers to choice. Cheers to intention and cheers to deviation. Cheers to the future resting and ready, ensconced in unlikely casings, to be released.
But also, my screen time on my phone is up over last week by more than 60% on average and it’s only Friday morning. You don’t want to know the hard numbers from Tuesday and Wednesday.
Some things don’t need to be neat and tidy. I like the dandelions in the soil around the Brussels sprouts with a carrot laying on top.
Their roots come out eventually, going into a saved glass jar to wait for a future glass of tea. The greens go in my eggs if they’re just my eggs. If the eggs are for sharing, they feed the compost just as well.
Other things need to be immaculate or immaculately accurate. Surgeries. Library shelves. Counting rooms.
I do hope that, eventually, people stop imagining dandelions where there are none. I do hope, eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later, this country can refresh itself. Removing the noxious and watching the beneficial move into the open space left behind.
I feel as though I’ve lost a month. It slipped through a gaping flu, withered on either side of the holidays, and then got swallowed up by days on a train, stroller-ing around “Bisneyland” and days back.
With winter break over after today, tomorrow we’ll drop from 4 to 3. Friday will be the first real day of just 2 as the little one and I embark on stay-at-home-ness. And then it’s the weekend.
I’ve been sliding into this new realm. The days of the week can become meaningless easily. My calendar that overlapped with color-coded priority for ages routinely has “No Events Today.” Which leads to me missing the single event I do have and no showing my haircut…
I’m learning how deeply I’ve relied on routine and ritual to allow myself to layer on “too much” for “so long.” It created the ability for a highly-functional auto-pilot life. One that I am looking forward to discovering. I want to be present and aware in ways I didn’t have space for. I’m choosing to slow down and see and feel.
I’m glad my peas are delicious. Normally, I like to sauté the shoots in some butter or oil, add salt and garlic, and eat them warm.
A gardening fellow, perhaps with floppy ears or a skin-like tail, is continuously insisting they are best eaten fresh, crisp, and raw.
I’m looking at two weeks of utter free days with usual evenings before the holidays are here. Then daycare will be over and I’ll be starting a brand new use of my energies: stay at home parent.
All and any tips, guides, or suggestions very much welcome, especially if they’re for a parent who needs a balance of space and quiet, avoids shopping, and can’t eat most of the things that baking most days would create. (I’m missing baking, homemade bread, pie, and holiday cookies a lot these days, can you tell?)