A funny thing happened on the way through my day today.
I woke up this morning and rolled over, not ready to face the day. I felt the impending wallow of the day before still lingering around my edges. I didn't have a purpose this day. I was supposed to go out with a friend I hadn't seen in a while, but I had the feeling that he wouldn't follow through and I had five hours to fill before that possibility even arrived.
I was in that funk. “Nothing is right. I'm all alone. When will things turn in my direction?” I recognized it as truth exasperated by PMS. The truth is relative. The PMS makes it feel definite. “I will never live my dream. I don't even know what my dream is.”
So I went for a drive. To the store, through the neighborhood, and back home again. At the store I tasted some amazing local cheese accented with basil. So good I thought, but I can't afford it. Cheese is a luxury.
By the time I got home. My friend had canceled. See.
I texted a girl friend with my woes of the world. Who reminded me that it was god’s timing. And I did not text back that I was sick of waiting for that bastard. That I am pissed and forgotten. I wallowed and hand stitched a corn filled heating pad feeling like I was wasting my time, day, life. Graciously she pointed out that a heating pad was productive (and reluctantly I thought, it is good to have the time for something so simple).
And through my wallow, my day continued. I intentionally set out to fill my time with plan B. I went and played music with some friends. And together we prepared for a benefit concert to honor and raise money for my dear friend and his son. And in which I would sing and play.
That evening, I went to a poetry gathering that turned out to be so much more. I met a community of people building a community for people. I was inspired by their stories and shared some of mine. I was proud of the young people who spoke their truth through poetry and found three organizations in the area that are doing great work, for the young, the under-privileged, and for poetry. I gave my card to three different people who were excited about what I may be able to offer. I sparked new ideas with an old friend and found a meeting place for an upcoming meeting that was beginning to feel impossible to find.
On my way out I was offered a chunk of cheese to take with me. The woman asked me which one I wanted, and I pointed to the one in the middle. Good choice she said, that is the one with basil. See?
I walked home, heart swelling, mind reeling, and enter my simple, humble basement dwelling and find a text from that same girlfriend. It brings me a laugh. My day of highs and lows is bookmarked by a friend’s generosity and compassion, and I realize what I have always known. I am blessed. Even in those moments I cannot tell or don’t remember, I am blessed.
I woke up this morning and rolled over, not ready to face the day. I felt the impending wallow of the day before still lingering around my edges. I didn't have a purpose this day. I was supposed to go out with a friend I hadn't seen in a while, but I had the feeling that he wouldn't follow through and I had five hours to fill before that possibility even arrived.
I was in that funk. “Nothing is right. I'm all alone. When will things turn in my direction?” I recognized it as truth exasperated by PMS. The truth is relative. The PMS makes it feel definite. “I will never live my dream. I don't even know what my dream is.”
So I went for a drive. To the store, through the neighborhood, and back home again. At the store I tasted some amazing local cheese accented with basil. So good I thought, but I can't afford it. Cheese is a luxury.
By the time I got home. My friend had canceled. See.
I texted a girl friend with my woes of the world. Who reminded me that it was god’s timing. And I did not text back that I was sick of waiting for that bastard. That I am pissed and forgotten. I wallowed and hand stitched a corn filled heating pad feeling like I was wasting my time, day, life. Graciously she pointed out that a heating pad was productive (and reluctantly I thought, it is good to have the time for something so simple).
And through my wallow, my day continued. I intentionally set out to fill my time with plan B. I went and played music with some friends. And together we prepared for a benefit concert to honor and raise money for my dear friend and his son. And in which I would sing and play.
That evening, I went to a poetry gathering that turned out to be so much more. I met a community of people building a community for people. I was inspired by their stories and shared some of mine. I was proud of the young people who spoke their truth through poetry and found three organizations in the area that are doing great work, for the young, the under-privileged, and for poetry. I gave my card to three different people who were excited about what I may be able to offer. I sparked new ideas with an old friend and found a meeting place for an upcoming meeting that was beginning to feel impossible to find.
On my way out I was offered a chunk of cheese to take with me. The woman asked me which one I wanted, and I pointed to the one in the middle. Good choice she said, that is the one with basil. See?
I walked home, heart swelling, mind reeling, and enter my simple, humble basement dwelling and find a text from that same girlfriend. It brings me a laugh. My day of highs and lows is bookmarked by a friend’s generosity and compassion, and I realize what I have always known. I am blessed. Even in those moments I cannot tell or don’t remember, I am blessed.
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