I did something this morning that I haven’t done in a very long time. I sat down in one of the overstuffed Parson chairs, grabbed my red throw to cover my legs and read a few pages from a book that’s laying on my table of books. I believe a writer should be surrounded by books. It’s inspiring to read what other writer’s wish to share and it’s encouraging to know deep in my bones that eventually there will be a book written by yours truly.
I was Marco Poloing with the magical Mrs. M this week and we were joking about the amount of books we live with. She went as far to purchase a rolling cart like you see being used at the public library! I just think that’s the coolest thing ever, but I don’t have a huge amount of books lying around, although you will find a stack in many of the rooms. If they are in a stack, they’re waiting to be read and on a shelf are some of my favorites that I don’t want to lose track of.
I think what I did this morning is considered normal, but I was amused that it felt planned. Yesterday, I published a newsletter for work entitled, ‘Slow Down December’ and thought it best to practice what was gently preached. I heated a chocolate chip scone and laid a slab of butter beside it once heated. Poured a cup of Christmas blend coffee in a retired Starbucks mug and sat them on the table of books. Anyone could find something at this table to suit their reading needs.
It was just getting light outside as I soaked up the stillness and thought…
There are pieces of me that are trying to find their way home. Over time little pieces fall away, or become buried by circumstances, but if they truly want to live in your heart, they’ll find their way back. For this to happen, we need to slow the pace, so stillness is on the schedule for the remainder of Barb’s year. This may sound insurmountable considering the holiday season is speeding toward us, but I want to step into the new year on solid ground with clarity.
One of my recent FB memories was a cheetah print pillow from 10 years ago that I was giving away. It was my daughter’s and from the photos shown that day, I was trying to find homes for things she’d outgrown.
Earlier this year I was visiting a local shop and a cheetah print pillow sham caught my attention. The front was a soft, t-shirt-like material, but the back was a solid color that felt like linen. I carried it with me through the store while chatting with the shop owner because it was the only one for sale. She offered a down insert for it, but out of all the pillows I’ve collected over the years, surely I had one to use. This pillow is a cherished addition to my home.
I had forgotten cheetah print makes my heart happy. It’s a simple pleasure that fell away like I was supposed to outgrow it, but obviously didn’t. While writing this I recalled some of my favorite Christmas ornaments are cheetah print and if glitter, or sequins are added…even better! If you feel pieces of you have slipped away that you used to enjoy, then set an intention to start saying yes to what sparks your heart and say no to things that don’t. Your heart song doesn’t age.
My daughter visited and as we sat chatting she laughed at every daily occurrence conveyed. The things that naturally occur seem normal to me, but I could easily write fiction because most are unbelievable.
It’s a well kept secret…life is designed to be fun.
I’m breaking one of my own rules. The rule was to not drink coffee after 2:00 pm, but here we are at 3:15 pm, savoring a fine cup of cold brew. It was intentional and feels rebellious, but some rules are made to be broken dependent of the day.
I woke up early because I’ve been going to bed earlier, but Saturday morning I stayed in bed to relish in some extra sleep. It was delightful, but there’s something off in the comfort of my sleep. I go to bed with the ceiling fan on, which is directly above the bed, but as morning arrives I’m cold. The house can be stuffy at night so the fan is welcomed, but with the change is season the house cools off at night and the cooler temperature wakes me up in the middle of the night.
Years ago I researched and purchased a pure down comforter. It was a substantial investment for a single Mom, but it was something I wanted and knew it would last. Today, I unzipped the suitcase style, protective covering the comforter is stored in and the sound of it being unzipped caught my attention. It just sounded soothing like something good was about to reveal itself. Placing it in the dryer to air fluff the cool air would release the compacted feathers restoring their fluff.
Once the fluffing was complete I dropped the comforter onto the bed and began unfolding it layer by layer. The sound was a soft, crinkling noise and right then I realized I was listening to the sound of comfort.
I don’t have to chase extraordinary moments. They’re right in front of me when I pause and look. I was making a cup of tea for my daughter and me, and this is how I happened to sit the cups on the cutting board. Once the tea was finished steeping, I snapped this pic.
This happens often in my life. Things line up and the photo looks staged, but instead it’s called living with intention. To pay attention to detail. Everything that comes before the moment is what makes the moment extraordinary. When I showed this photo to my daughter, she said, “It’s so esthetically pleasing.” Usually what’s pleasing to the eye is like water for the soul, or it should be in my opinion.
I was listening to my Right to Write course, by Julia Cameron, and she was talking about having writing stations. Different spaces throughout the house to sit and write, depending on the mood. I have those, but not only for writing. I have spaces that soothe me, and each one has a different feel. One of my favorite spaces is the middle of my bed. Sometimes, in the evening I sit there and write after a long day.
One afternoon, I was sitting in the middle of my bed, on a Zoom, when my attention drifted away from the screen over to the corner of the room.
That corner of the room was being bathed in golden light, but for me it felt like another extraordinary moment.