March 2023 SOLC–Day 25
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
I hear the birds outside, calling. I’m choosing to think of it as a dawn serenade or even a cheery “Good Morning!” rather than as a reminder that the feeders are empty–an avian rebuke of sorts.
The small splash of last summer’s red nail polish on the tip of one big toenail? It’s a cheerful memento, rather than an embarrassing indication of laziness.
Those spider webs in the window? Not evidence of sloth. No, they’re an effort to foster a natural habitat, to provide refuge, or perhaps an investment in natural bug eradication measures.
I’m weaving my world into different patterns today.
Thinking about the spider webs, I remember the time my son’s teacher laughingly shared with me how my son had shared with his class a story of us stopping our dinner to watch a spider wrap its prey. (Clearly, web has been part of my decorating motif for a long time.) I suspect she was thinking of this as one of those unfortunate revelations kids make to their teachers–the ones that would cause parents to cringe if only they knew. You may have heard some of these yourself, the ones that can make future eye contact challenging: “My dad walks around in his underwear and farts all the time.” “My mom’s reading Fifty Shades of Grey.” or “My mom has handcuffs in her room. She says it’s in case there’s ever a bad guy.” But, while his teacher was, perhaps, considering my poor housekeeping efforts, I chose to think of it as a time we fostered wonder and flexibility.
Anyway, this morning, after a week of long, long days and too much focus, I’m allowing myself to drift. You may have noticed already. I was late to rise (10 hour sleep celebration! Woot!) and ignored the pull to get up and out and greet the sunrise. Instead, I’m allowing my body and mind to be slow, to wander where they wish. To ignore the to do’s and simply to be. At least for the moment.
Yesterday at recess a second grader zipped her coat around a playground structure pole. She took each empty sleeve in one of her hands. Then she danced. An easy-breezy graceful dance. Her eyes half-closed, her body loose and relaxed, she and her coat dipped and swayed around that jaunty red pole. Utterly content in the moment that she’d created.
That’s how I want to be today. I want to drift along, see where the tide of the day takes me and mix metaphors wherever I want. To wander. To wonder. To create my own enchantment. To spend my day easy-breezy, eyes half-closed, loose and relaxed.
Wish me luck!