Good Morning, humans. Happy Brunch Sunday from Florida. It's cloudy and 50* outside, but it is sunny in my heart. Let's raise our mimosas or mugs and clink a cheers to a bit of connection between work, notices and ads in your inbox. Written with a Gillian Anderson accent in my head. Reading with an accent is completely your next, best decision. Oh, Sweet Sunday! What a bliss.
So many good things. Amidst so many variables. That's what we'll call them today. I'm practicing being okay with variables. I'm practicing being okay with variables. I'm practicing being okay with variables. I'm practicing being okay with variables. OR Things went sideways for a few weeks, to better teach me a lesson? And now we are again on the right path and that's why everything feels smoother? Hmm. There were clues about the veering, and I did catch them, and created a story around them--which turned out to be mildly accurate. The story replayed in my mind, day and night. I am now a supporter of the daily antacid. Not necessarily a fan, but a consumer. Our food and lifestyles--and mindsets, create the acid tummy. I've always believed that we could choose to let go of the food and lifestyles and mindsets, and not need a pill to bring "balance" back to our pH. I'll be honest, I have judgement of the food- and pill-makers, and the employment treadmills.
This is my attempt to be lighter. Ha! Me--letting the heavy go. Let's re-trace, and cross out the judgey thoughts that do not help with the happiness flow. In my streams of consciousness, I wonder how many pop up? I really do want to shake things out, breath. Be less serious. Here's one example: I brought my very own Bluetooth speaker, the one I purchased because everyone moved out and brought theirs with them. It's curvy like me and cranks the tunes and podcasts beautifully as I dance or do dishes in the kitchen. I brought it to my first visit to my new apartment. But after I planted it on my counter bar, I spent three hours adulting with router and modem and checking-in conditions. I ran every appliance and flushed. I adjusted window blinds to where I like them. I made mental notes of furniture placement. I forgot to dance. Instead of putting the speaker back into my bag, I turned it on. The song from the car that morning resumed instantly. Which I still find to be amazing. It was not an 80s ponytail pep song. It was from a soundtrack, had a good beat, but not really for dancing. It was a little pensive. My thought was: New starts are also endings. On the drive "home," three versions of Auld Lang Syne came next, one after the other. I kid you not. You know, the New Year's Eve song. Ingrid Michaelson, Kenny G, and the Kenny G Millennium version, all in a row. My phone was on shuffle. Of all the songs that could have come up... I promise you, there was no genre search or manipulation. I have so much music in my library--49 songs under the artists that start with A. (I add songs that I love to my library, then set it to a constant shuffle to hear whichever is randomly picked. It's like my own radio station. I trust the phone with the decisions of which song will come next. It's a practice of relinquishing immediate control, though as my tastes change, I delete like a boss.) Any-hoo, it was a moment. I thought about skipping to the next song. But no. This was happening and I was going to sit with it. Letting the musical breeze wash over my skin. It was a good opportunity to feel. I do want more than just the Have-Tos. At a time where some of the roles that were never mine fall only too me, at a time when the visual post-it board in my head is full of the micro tasks that will take me to living alone in an apartment with the family dog, when I am both tech person and handyman, I need to dance it out a little more. Before I put the speaker away, I did stand in the center of my new living room, facing the balcony which faces the pond's splashing fountain. I closed my eyes and loosened my shoulders. And I swayed like a willow. Today's Deep Breath: here's a practical juju nugget, a collective Next Best Decision. I want a little more Want-Tos. One could argue that my last two decades have been a burning pile of wants. Not the way I mother. Not the way I spouse. Or church or teach. Yes, I work hard but my purpose has been to please. I was determined to please God, so he really would forgive me, in an on-going, daily practice. Each morning the slate was blank and I had to prove myself all over again. If I messed up again, all the past sins would come back onto my shoulders. Hmm. Who told me that? Now I see, that is not the definition of forgiveness. True forgiveness is clean. Washed. With a protection against more dirt, like that stuff you clean your windshield with. The way I worked, to please--I was begging others to love me. FILL me, because I was perpetually empty from all the self-loathing and self-judgement. I am forgiving myself now, every day. My thoughts about me are loving and kind. I FILL ME. So you don't have to. Is that as revolutionary as it sounds? Has all of humanity arrived here and I am just sneaking into the side door? Can you see me, peeking around the door, looking in, a little afraid but so, darn ready. It's home, here. It's bright and light and the air is clean. I want to dance and rest at the same time. Allow me to share my friend's mantra: "I am practicing loving, drama-free presence without attachment or responsibility to Outcome, Opinions or Preferences of others." You and I are welcome.