on the fourth day. . .

Reverb 10: December 4 – Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year? (Author: Jeffrey Davis)

by taking time to notice who I am becoming

by treating myself to the unexpected

by taking time to be a little spontaneous and silly

by returning to the sacred

by sharing days with others

by seeing two

and believing in one.



on the third day. . .

Reverb 10: Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). (Author: Ali Edwards)

Near sunset on an early spring day in late March, I was walking on the floating dock in the nature center across the street from my home. This winding, plastic-slatted dock has long felt like a magical path to me. Tall grasses that enjoy water surround you on most of the walk, with an occasional clearing and larger observation platform where naturalists can gather with visitors to describe this habitat. You can view the red farm buildings to one side, hardwood forests to the other, and the pond all around.

This evening my gaze focused to the horizon line. The brown trees looking just a bit softer with the smallest of buds emerging. The tall grasses hinting toward green. The pond water as clear as I've ever seen. Reflecting the warm pale blue of the sky.

Warm pale blue sky. I only see the sky this color in early spring. I've noticed it for over ten springs now. The first in 1998, as a college senior who felt something beginning that evening, in a Jeep traveling back to campus on a rural highway in western Minnesota. I glanced out the window and the warm pale blue sky touched my heart. Birds flew above us, diving around in the farm fields. Greening grasses emerged. I looked at the sky, I looked at him and in my mind's eye, I saw scenes of my future. They were vivid, but fleeting. Playing out only for me to see.

The warm pale blue skies that followed each year since prompted twinges of sadness in my chest. I would turn away from them. Focus on the road. The building. My feet. I was happy to see them disappear into the vibrant bright blue sky of summer. The purple of autumn. The muted grey of winter.

Until this evening. I relaxed my body and looked through the grasses. And just gazed at that warm pale blue sky. A warmth was bubbling over in my chest. And in my complete stillness, I felt it moving through my body. To my head. My fingers. And my feet. Leaving me and moving into the earth and air around me. I allowed myself to rest in this moment and smile. This time my love was enough. It more than filled me. It spilled all around me. Gratefulness arose in my mind. For that moment twelve years ago, when I saw that warm pale blue and felt something beginning. Now, in this moment, I’m not concerned with the love that never filled that messy space between him and me. With not knowing if I will ever feel that exciting beginning of something again. It’s delicious to see that sky and feel only exciting, joyous love. Now seeing the warm pale blue spring sky is enough. I am enough.

on the second day. . .

Reverb 10: prompt two/writingWriting. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it? (Author: Leo Babauta of Zen Habits)

This is an easy one for me to answer. I don't write everyday. Well, that's not exactly true. I write for work M-F. Emails, proposals and thank you notes, mostly. I feel fortunate because my work vocabulary is full of beautiful words: generous, thank you, gift, talent and motivated come to mind quickly.

I know I don't write everyday for myself because I struggle with finding just the right words. If they aren't coming, I stop writing. Part of that perfection and efficiency thing I deal with. I've taken a lot of writing classes over the past few years and I'm still not completely sold on the idea that writers write through the blah ideas, the lacking words, the stuck-ness. The rational part of my mind knows this has to be the case for people who make their living writing about what they are interested in. It has to be true. I know the writers I admire are human. They struggle. They don't feel in the grove. But those that continue to produce have some sort of discipline that I just don't possess right now.

For my habits to change, I have to change my attitude about why I write for me. That me as the sole audience for my words is good enough. That writing even when I'm feeling content and life is clicking is valuable to my growth. That I have something to say that I want to read, and quite possibly, that someone else would want to read as well.

And from Tammy. . . I selected the following intention from what she sent me. Happens to be a quote I've held close to my heart for over two years. It's actually my screen saver on my home computer. I haven't recited it to myself in quite a while. Just two days ago I remembered that and said it while walking around campus. Here it is:

Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray - Rumi.