“My house is still in a state of post holiday madness. There’s trash and toys and all kinds of other things that need to be addressed, so naturally I spent the first day of the new year on a trail in the desert.
I find myself being a consummate escapist.”
That’s how I started this post when I began it back in January. Needless to say the year has not gone according to plan. I don’t know what the plan was, but wherever 2019 was supposed to go, it went right off the rails.
I spent a week in a behavioral health facility.
I went to Orlando(which is basically the same thing) and then Sedona with my husband.
I wrote a bunch of terrible poetry.
I sent my youngest off to kindergarten.
I started Bullet Journaling, which I am LOVING!!
And I’ve been sucking up as much of the aforementioned escapism as possible in the form of art museums, hikes, concerts, movies, and books that are not my own. As it is, three of my favorite authors have new books out that I am chomping at the bit to devour.
The thing I’ve noticed though, is that when my escape is intentional, something that feeds my soul and requires a modicum of effort on my part, I walk away feeling much better about myself and my situation (whatever that is).
This year has had some downs, some serious downs: my uncle passed and then my husband’s grandmother, whom I adored. The previously noted hospital stay wasn’t a picnic either. Having to ask permission to sharpen a pencil may be the greatest exercise in humility of my adult life.
And while it’s not over yet, the year has taught me that the highs are there for the having as much as the lows, if I will seek them.
My focus matters. My action matters. My intention matters.
A friend brought the following to my attention this morning, and it is the crystallization of everything I have been through thus far:
“Before I was powerless and passive in the face of my confusion, but now I am active: the powerful shaper of my experience.”
~Gregory Orr, On the Making of Poems, NPR’s This I Believe April 14, 2014
Sometimes mindfully eating the brownies I just made or taking a few deep breaths when I realize that no one is protecting the Kurds anymore is all I can do in a moment. But I can choose to do those things, and that was a truth I had lost hold of sometime between January and February of 2019.
I choose to spend less time on Youtube (still working on Pinterest).
I choose to let myself shed a few tears for global tragedy before doing whatever small thing I can do to help, and then I breath and move on.
I choose to workout and drink all the water because my body is the only vessel I have, and if I’m not going to mindlessly destroy it I have to deliberately build it up.
I choose to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of latter Day Saints despite the unpopularity and vitriol that often come with that.
This year I choose.