Yesterday, I said I was going to jump in to this National Blog Posting Month at BlogHer. For the rest of the month, I’ll be incorporating their prompts into my daily blog.
Good morning, good morning. Here where I am, the music is so quiet that I can barely hear it, and the birds are still asleep. I actually managed to get out of bed around the time when my (second) alarm went off at 4.30 today — I think I’m getting back on schedule. The puppy has taken to getting up when I do and coming into the office to sleep next to me, which I adore. (It helps, I think, that I put an extremely comfy pillow down there to entice her.) How is it where you are?
For NaBloPoMo Day 2, the prompt they offer is this: If you knew that whatever you ate next would be your last meal, what would you want it to be?
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This morning, Sophie and I dodged a bullet — on our way back home from our short walk, while she was being very good and heeling next to my right side (waiting for the next bunch of treats I’d offer her as a thank you), I heard a rustling in the blackberry brush beside us to my left. Sophie may have heard it, too, or she may have been more interested in the possibility of treats. In any case, she stayed right next to me, and as we walked past the rustling, I looked over to the left, and there was a whole family of skunks — two adults at least, and I thought I heard more rustling behind them. As much as part of me wanted to hang out for a moment and get a closer look, the louder and more adrenaline-y part of me hustled us on down the road. I fed Sophie my whole hand-full of treats, letting the shot of panic ease out of my muscles. Whew.
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Yesterday we went for a long hike, the whole family, and I thought about how all of this is new for Sophie. She’s just about 7 months now; if she were a human baby, of course, she’d barely be out of her parent’s arms! Here we were, exploring trails, eucalyptus groves, shrubby vistas — every inch of it brand new to her. She shows all of her interest and enthusiasm, puts her whole body into it, her nose to the ground, her tail up and wagging. She bounds over to and pounces on the things she wants to see, or she trots, more cautious, watching with intent and focus.
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I missed you yesterday! After a gorgeous and intense workshop on Monday night, I wasn’t able to get up as early as I’d wanted — not til 7, which gave me enough time to do my morning three pages in my notebook but not enough time before leaving for work to do the blog. Thought I might do it from work, but work was, you know, work. Busy. And most days when I get home from work (since I spend all day on a computer), I don’t turn the computer on. Last night I got to have a quiet meal at home (miracle) with my honey, and then we spent a little time in the back art cottage, getting table and art supplies set up (finally), moving the storage around, bringing candle and incense and images for the walls, bringing a radio and red wine and human scent, so that the little visitors who maybe have been spending time there in that space know that they’re about to have some company. Felt very good.
Once I was done hanging pictures and consolodating boxes, I sat in the rocking chair and imagined myself working in that space. Then I picked up the copy of Jack Kornfeld’s The Wise Heart: A Guide to the Universal Teachings of Buddhist Psychology, a book my mom lent to me when I was in Omaha the last time. After this weekend’s body mindfulness workshop, I was grateful to read and think more about the idea of mindfulness, and how constant and deep-veined busy-ness is the opposite of mindfulness (isn’t it?). I let myself just notice the places I was tense and achy, just notice, and maybe breathe into them a little bit, like Alex would suggest. I’m grateful for her guidance and leadership and friendship.
Last night I dreamed about my mother and sister and stepfather, again. Do you have those recurring, themed dreams? In this one, I was throwing things at him, feeling so strong, hating him cleanly, not pretending like everything was ok. At the end, my mother said she was going to leave him, but she was Bruce Willis (but only when she said that part) in the dream. Maybe that was the persona she’d have needed to be able to go — I could analyze that further, but I just want to leave it alone.
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