Day 16,297: Musical Oracle

I bring my iPod to the office with me. It really helps me to tune out any commotion in the outer world and lets me sharpen my focus on the task at hand. It’s a good mood booster as well. These days, I can use all of the help in that area that I can get.

I would have to say that my iPod library is at least one-third spoken word material. Podcasts. Book chapters. Poetry. Seminars. Motivational and educational what-have-you.

The music in my library is a rather eclectic mix as well ... wherein eclectic is a nice way of saying bizarre. To say that my tastes are broad would be an understatement. The majority of songs would be considered relatively normal, I suppose, covering the last 30 years or so. Evidence of the mileage on me. But as a Reiki practitioner, I also have a lot of what my husband lovingly refers to as “whale sounds” that play in the background during treatments. And then I should confess to the Gregorian AND Sanskrit chanting as well as the singing bowls. Native American flute? Got that covered, too. Funk and folk? Speed metal? A bit of techno for good measure? Yes, yes and affirmative. I’m complex ... 32 flavors, baby.

I simply set the iPod on shuffle and let whatever comes up, come up. The music tumbles with the spoken material and magically plays out in some semblance of what I swear is order. I know that there is no logical reason to expect that there should ever be any guidance there, but I swear to you that there is. Always. Sometimes powerfully so.

Anything strange about or on your iPod? Purge yourselves, dear ones. Let's hear it.

Day 16,295: One of Those Days

Some days I cannot muster the motivation to take or dig up a picture and finding the right words feels like slogging through wet cement.

Today is one of those days.

Some days I cannot find my tool belt ... that list of things that I know keeps my train on the tracks.

Today is one of those days.

Some days shaving my legs, loading the dishwasher, making the bed, and/or folding the laundry just ain't gonna happen.

Today is one of those days.

Some days I look at myself in the mirror and feel dismayed at the evidence of aging and stress.

Today is one of those days.

Some days I am unable to give the benefit of the doubt, take the high road, and/or be the bigger person.

Today is one of those days.

Some days I wonder if I will ever figure out how to get my shit together.

Today is one of those days.

But most days I see or hear something that reminds me that I am swimming in miracles.

Today is one of those days.

And most days I remember to return to my breath when the what-ifs run wild and I need to reset.

Today is one of those days.

And most days I don't have to question whether I will eat, have shelter, or receive medical care if I get sick.

Today is one of those days.

And most days I am sent off to work with kisses and best wishes, then welcomed home with wagging tails and open arms.

Today is one of those days.

And most days I know that I have accomplished what was most important ... and that was to love.

Today is one of those days.

And most days I have beloved friends who I can always call and/or write when I'm having one of those days.

Today, thank goodness, is one of those days.

Day 16,292: On Emergence and Momentum

(Photo from Archives: 7/23/2006)

Ah, another photo on the theme of emergence. Not usually a fan of flash, but so glad that I was able to catch this shot on a walk at a local nature preserve several years ago. As with the butterfly, I was at the right place at the right time.

At this very same nature preserve, on a Memorial Day morning, my husband and I had a wild turkey cross our path and moments later spotted a fawn curled up beside a fallen tree less than 20 feet from the trail. It's mama was nowhere within our sight, but I have no doubt that she had her eyes on us. This is a magical place only minutes by car from my typical suburban neighborhood. The 45 minutes that it takes to walk the looping trail always feels like a joy transfusion.

Today's joy involved fighting the good fight in the lawn and garden department of our local home improvement store. Mother's Day is typically planting-palooza at my house, but that weekend was a weather wash-out this year. Per the pandemonium my husband and I encountered, we weren't the only ones trying to make up for lost time while the sun (briefly) shines. With our window boxes now in acceptable order, stuffed with purple wave petunias which are, at this stage, ragged and worse for the wear, I feel that this day's most important work is done. Tomorrow, when it rains again, I won't feel the least bit guilty about succumbing to A&E programming ... my current drug of choice.

As much as all things related to house flipping and paranormal activity beckon to numb me out for an afternoon, I don't want to lose this momentum. In terms of household projects. In terms of writing here. In terms of all of my creative loves that I tell myself that I don't have time to do. It's a balance, I know. The doing and the not doing. And, of course, the stories that I tell myself about said doing and not doing. *sigh* At least for today, I know that I showed up and put out. This, for me, is enough.

You see, the hokey-poking isn't the THAT that it's all about. It's really showing up and putting out. Quote me on that. Tomorrow, God willing, we will be invited to do it again, you and me. Show up and put out. I hope to see you then.

Day 16,291: A New Story

(Photo from Archives: 8/28/2007)

Sometimes I get really tired of saying I'm sorry ... apologizing profusely for my short-comings and failure to rise to the occasion. Again. I may not post here every day, but I can assure you that not one single day passes when my truancy doesn't cross my mind.

I have this recurring dream where I find an aquarium that I forgot was in my care. Most of the fish in it are dead from long-term lack of food. The few still alive are only barely so, clouded eyes and gasping. In this dream, I behold what's become of my neglect with overwhelming guilt. Look at what I've done ... because of what I haven't done.

I don't like breaking promises and, for better or worse, I see this blog as a promise. Yes, to you, precious visitor, but also, mostly, to myself. I can handwrite in my journal like the house is on fire, every morning without fail. Yet it's putting my words out there by putting them down here that keeps tripping me up with furious persistence.

So today I am contemplating who I might be and how things might be different if I stop telling myself those stories I craft to justify not being here. I have been telling these stories for a long time. Especially the one about not-enough-time and nothing-worthwhile-to-say. The scariest story is why-bother. I've told these stories long enough that I believe them. I tell them to other people too. If I can convince them to believe me, then they really must be true.

But they're not true. And it's time for a new story. One where there is always enough time. One where there is so much say. One in which the reasons to bother are simple, rich, sometimes messy ... and quite possibly none of my business to judge. Maybe the best part of this new story is when I finally break free of my chrysalis and breathe.