4:30 a.m. arrives so quickly. Really, it's a terrible time to have to get up. I am a life-long early-morning person, and I groan when that alarm goes off.
Anyway: I'm awake now.
News news news. Yesterday Paul and I plugged our ears and instead had a Stevie Wonder-Jackson 5-Beyonce dance party in the kitchen.
Today I need to bake bread and wash sheets and haul firewood; and also edit a manuscript; and also weed in the back garden . . .
I am not opposed to the "need to" approach to managing my days. It's like practicing scales: up the fingerboard, and down the fingerboard, and now the harmonic minor, and now arpeggios--a routine of the body, a quieting of the mind.
Daylight slips through the windows. I feel like no one and nothing. A skim of sunrise reddens the roofs and chimneys. What is my task on the planet? A thin breeze flutters the daffodils.
1 comment:
"I feel like no one and nothing. ... What is my task on the planet?"
And sometimes I FEEL like everyone and all and my task is simply to be.
At various times in my life, I've made a list each day, as I'm doing now, that starts with Make A List. Then I can cross that off immediately, having accomplished at least one thing for the day.
I do so look forward each day to your blog, thank you for being one of the daffodils blooming in the snow each day!
Space and Grace
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