Oh the mornings, they’ve become so sludgy and drudgy, drowsy and gray. My alarm went off at 6:15 am; I groaned aloud at the jolting disruption to my warm and cozy sleep. The chill to my bones set in immediately as I begrudgingly pulled back the covers. Getothecoffeegettothecoffeegetothecoffee.
Cold weather and sunless skies zap my energy, lessen my productivity, make me snacky for snack foods. “Pull on your elastic waist sweatpants!” winter calls to me, ”and settle into yourself.”
I need a plan.
Last night, I contacted a few friends whose kids go to the same school mine do – a school with hiking trails in its backyard. “Would anyone be interested in taking a walk with me right after drop-off,” I asked. Two said “yes” so I laced on my hiking boots. We met in the parking lot where one of those said friends had to cancel due to the plague-ish like flu hitting our community fast and hard. The other friend and I wished her and her family well then headed on into the quiet woods to breath in some crisp and invigorating fresh air.
This friend and I talked about important things, significant things, such as motherhood, simplicity, and finding fulfillment in making connections with the flesh and blood human beings right in front of us. We talked while quite literally getting lost in the nature I’ve driven past who knows how many times without ever actually tasting of it. And it was very nice and peaceful – a refueling way to set the tone for a brand new day.
People and creation over the all-consumingness of iPhones, the lofty ideals of Pinterest, overstuffed agendas and doomsdayish news reports.
I am boldly starting here. I will think, and pray, before mindlessly reacting or becoming sucked into the vortex of information/e-mail/procrastination overload. Heaven help me live like I am dying, and love like I am dying, ridding my existence of superfluous stressors and petty excuses for staying ever discontent and self-absorbed.
“Healing is impossible in loneliness; it is the opposite of loneliness. Conviviality is healing. To be healed we must come with all the other creatures to the feast of Creation.
(pg.99, “The Body and the Earth”)”
― Wendell Berry, The Art of the Commonplace: The Agrarian Essays