What's Under the Snow

It is 8 a.m. Every once in a while, the wind blows a puff of snow off the shed out back. It is beautiful, like everything else outside after 8+ inches of snow.

It's clean and white. Like a new calendar. Fresh with possibility.

It makes us hopeful that we can be that new person this year - do whatever it is we've been meaning to do forever - on the way to becoming a better, more ideal version of ourselves.

Then February comes and the snow melts and we are left with the eternal disappointment: Our mid-winter world is brown and gray again. Dead, like the resolutions we made during the snowstorm.

You can give up on becoming that better version of yourself. Or you can make small, incremental changes without any fanfare at all, the types of changes that no one really notices, until voila, there you are. Maybe not the best, most fantastical version of yourself (the one who runs marathons and teaches yoga while working 50 hours a week and volunteering at the local food pantry/dog rescue every weekend) but a better version.

A version of yourself that is a little more comfortable in her own skin. A version of yourself that admires the snowfall, but also appreciates all the work that still needs to be done once everything white and beautiful and temporary melts away.
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I am listening to: A quiet house
I am reading: Servants - A Downstairs History of Britain from the Nineteenth Century to Modern Times
And I am: Being realistic

Fresh

There won't be any resolutions for 2014. But I'm liking the word "fresh" for this new year.

Fresh perspective
Fresh outlook
Fresh air
Fresh food
Fresh ideas
Fresh thoughts

Notice it's not refresh. It's a weaker word. And implies looking back or updating what's already here.

Fresh is new from the start, like the snow that is blowing around today. I like it.
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I am listening to: The MSU marching band @ the Rose Parade
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Fresh

December 1

The best thing that happened to me yesterday was that I started reading Profiles in Courage by John F. Kennedy. I made time for it, in spite of other responsibilities and demands, and am glad I did.

It is striking how little has changed in politics today. And I wonder - must do research - if there are politicians who could be profiled in an updated version of this book or if our best heroes are only found in the pages of history.

Confession: I have constant anxiety over where I am, what I'm doing and who I should be. I rarely relax - or it is a 'faux' relaxation of watching TV, reading a book, when my mind is unsettled. I want to get to that point again where I am living 'down here' - relaxed and confident and comfortable, versus 'up here' - shoulders tense and jaw clenched.

I spend too much time on things that aren't worthy of my attention. I don't spend enough time on things that truly inspire me or make me feel good/happy. This is entirely my fault and I am working on it.

It feels like this is a start in the right direction - writing again. Although we'll see if I stick with it. There was a major event recently that has upended life here - we lost Gromit. I am still trying to discern how much of my grief is truly around the loss of our dog (who was a joy to us and had a great, long life followed by a necessary, not tragic death) or how much of it is around the transition of my life from a younger/youngish feeling/acting person to older middle-aged woman living with the choices she's made, good and bad. My therapist will say it is both, with more of the grief to the latter. But I don't know. Yet.

I do know that I must take action in order to make the most of my time left here. Do something meaningful. I've had more than enough sitting around a bar drinking - this is not how I want to spend my time. Numb and buzzed - living only for the memory of the last good time or looking forward to the next. That's not me.
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I am listening to: Nothing
I am reading: Profiles in Courage
And I am: Tense