Wednesday, February 12, 2014

One of those days.


There's not much to say, except today was a two cup coffee morning. A second piece of peanut butter toast afternoon. A an extra chapter to read evening. You know those days. It was nineteen degrees when I stepped outside and I couldn't stop saying, man, this is beautiful. This is so nice. This feels so good. It must be thirty. And then we got in the car and checked my phone and it felt like a drumroll when the number pulled up. Because when you're used to negative nineteen, nineteen above feels like spring.

Life feels that way lately. Like it's pulling up boots and rubbing red hands together. Alright. Let's get this going. We've got work to do. I'm seeing that work outside. The snow melted in slush around my feet today, so that my socks were wet, but if that's not better than numb feet I don't know what is. I almost didn't wear a coat. I'm squinting and I might see buds on a branch, just maybe. Don't tell me otherwise.

Today has been an exercise in slowness and purpose and it has the feeling of waking up gradually. I'm telling myself that small things done well are enough, that to have a good day and work hard doesn't mean rushing, going full-steam until I collapse. I woke up at 6 and got up after the second snooze button. Finished chapter two of The Artist's Way. Wrote 3,540 words (so far) about a man in love and a woman he loses from illness and well . . . maybe I'll share it some day. I have letters to mail and websites to finish and a workout I really should do. The point is. I'm trying to find the balance between pushing myself and giving myself grace. Sharing and saving it for real life. Working hard and resting. But two things I know: I need early mornings like I need sun (two things which have been sorely lacking this winter), and if I'm not creating every day, my making muscles start to atrophy. So, here's to early rising and another shot of espresso in the morning and plugging away at a piece when you'd rather be anywhere but sitting in front of the page wrestling with words.

Off to finish that story. And maybe make a cup of tea, just to mix it up a little bit.

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