My story box, full of poetry, stories, articles, and ideas waited a quarter of a year for the day I returned. Today was the day, as I accidentally, on purpose, opened my account to see what I had created. The words brought back much and so I leave them as they present, like a cool breeze on a hot summer day, the memory of snow returns.
. . .
The bright morning sun glinted off the day-old snow, shining right into my sleepy eyes as I meandered up the stairs from the dark lower floor. The blinds, slanted sideways, let the light pour through, so I had no choice but to squint, damning and thanking the bright light simultaneously.
Tugging my soft housecoat snuggly around me, I felt as if I was trying to cocoon myself back in the darkness of my room. Little Phoebe, my small doggy, runs hell mell up the stairs, darts past me, and begins asking for her morning food.
As I scoop her up into my arms, I tell her I haven’t even had coffee yet! In her doggy mind, I am sure she is reminding me, “I don’t drink it to wake up; it’s decaf, so what’s the problem?” The bright light is a thing of the past as I let her out and look at the fresh doggy tracks in the snow.
Brisk, bright, snowy mornings bring joy after I’ve fully awakened.
The sun seems to sound like a bugle in the empty cemetery, echoing into the day, “Let’s get moooooving!” Knowing my hour to prepare for the office is slowly winding down, and I have to motivate myself to action.
As I sit with my fingers gently moving across the keyboard, my thoughts come and go, and I am reminded of how valuable I find writing first thing in the morning. Sentences come and go, thoughts whirl and emotions rise to the intensity of thought. The music gently playing in the background (classical this morning) reminds me of the beauty of each note, and I write in time to the beat.
Today begins the new goal of the morning writing time. Words can pour out; some will make sense, and others might be deleted without a second thought.
A month has escaped without my weekly writing, causing me to miss the purging of study and the creation of something valuable to my soul.
The missing link in my daily activity begs to show up.
On Monday, I received an email from t.r.h. Blue, with The DayLily. She writes poetry and sends out emails once in a great while, so you don’t get to the point where you see an email and delete it on sight. I opened it up, read, and realized she captured what writing is to me, the feelings of the soul relieved and trapped on canvas, waiting for someone to connect and find their vibe.
Because of her simple winter reflection, I became fascinated with the capture of words in their delicate, intricate dance across the white screen. As I write tonight, I realize the above experience happened 4 months ago, the time when I needed a breather from writing, people, noise, and constant output.
Snow falls and gently reminds us of the beauty covering the harsh realities. Breathwork is like a pause and creates space, no matter what season you are in.
Goals for writing, reading, and gaining insight are a gift we give to the world, and yet what is the advantage we fill up the personal life we live with? I found myself longing for that morning so many months ago, and today with summer’s heat beating down on me, I realized breathwork meant enjoying the warmth for the time it is here, cherishing the feeling of it on my skin rather than wishing it away.
How often do we wish the moments away rather than cherishing their experience? I hope this small tale helped you recognize how valuable memory is and how writing can create a story from days past that you can take up again without hesitation.
Here I am, four months later, engaged and thankful for the time away from pressures outside myself.
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This post was previously published on Blue Insights.
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