This week, the signs have been ripe and abundant. To name but a few:
- It feels so good to live where I do. My family and I have been on the receiving end of extreme unpleasantness from people who live in our immediate vicinity, some of which I would go as far as to call Suburban Terrorism. And yet, some days, when I chat with the greengrocer, wave to a school dad in a coffee shop, exchange pleasantries with a lady who lives a few doors down, arrange to have coffee with the mum of my daughter’s old pal from kindergarten… it feels so good to be part of this community.
- I am so grateful to have a personal trainer. Because it is so damn easy to fall out of the exercise habit! After a couple of weeks of begging off due to illness, I could see myself eyeing off my jammies when it was time to get into my fitness clobber. Good thing I had aready paid for the session and knew she’d be expecting me to keep our appointment. Accountability FTW.
- Feeling excited and petrified about getting a new tattoo is exactly as it should be.
- Birthdays can be the loveliest days. Even if they include two loads of washing up, one load of laundry, the usual school drop-offs and pick-ups, presents purchased by the birthday girl (in this case, me) for my children to give me, and a lot of people forgetting and that being OK. Maybe especially if they include these things.
- Birthdays can also be the loveliest days because they include lots of kisses and cuddles, sweet phone calls and SMSes, the best pizza, a BEE oracle card representing “abundance” which is so completely perfect and making plans. And a card that has a big three on it with sparkly cowboys and native Americans because it is the last remaining of a big bunch of cards purchased in a sweet little paper shop on Rue du Dragon in St Germain des Prés (where Vali Myers used to dance the night away), which has since disappeared. And with a four sketched in front of the three with a red sharpie, well, it is damn perfect.
- Keys and doors are trying to get my attention. In the space of a week, I have locked myself out. I have accidentally smashed the [blue etched very-expensive-to-replace] window surrounding my front door, exactly where someone could reach their hand in and open the deadlock. I received La Clé de la Vie for my birthday. Something about paying attention? Being more realistic about living with vulnerability? Staying open?
- Wearing mala beads made from Mookaite Jasper seem to make things I’ve been afraid to do, or things I’ve been putting off for ages, suddenly very easy.
- When Joan as Police Woman sings And I love how it feels/To be so high without sinnin’ she knows what the heck she’s talking about. Sure, I’ve felt it before, in love and other places. But on my birthday I pulled out my battered bruised manuscript, untouched for eighteen months, and started working on it again. With love and reverence. Felt like my greatest act of freedom, of reclamation. Where it will go, I just don’t know. But who cares. It felt freaking amazing to be back in that world.
- For now, I’m just going to have to live with the fact that who I am and who I’d like to think I am are not always congruent. I eat bee pollen. And goji berries. I exercise three to four times a week. I drink turmeric lattes. I have a gratitude journal. I’d choose my Shiatsu practitioner over my GP any day. And I have also taken penicillin three times in the last six months for chest infections. Sure, the past six months have been anomalous in many ways (read: stress levels off the GD charts). And there’s also a bit of self-punishment for not being able to rise above what’s reasonable: something I’m trying to shine a bit of compassion on. So I guess there’s room to see what happens going forward.
- What this space is all about is HOPE. And GRATITUDE. And that feels like enough.
What showed up on your doorstep this week?