All in a Day
We keep on making the best of it.
This morning began with a jolt, like old knob and tube wires ungrounded and prone to shorting out.
We keep on making the best of it.
Come to think of it, other mornings this week started this way, with a similar startle, the way I bolt upright when something wakes me, as if bad news is a blink away.
We keep on making the best of it.
A shimmering mirage of anxiety and overwhelm all sludging through me, heavy and toxic.
We keep on making the best of it.
Teeth clenched and jaw tight, I sat down to write as is my way, to name the things as if to say, here. Here is what I am experiencing.
We keep on making the best of it.
I have learned that sharing these moments – not only the moments of resolve and clarity but the unresolved moments and questions and no clear takeaways or answers is so often a catalyst for connection, an opening.
We keep on making the best of it.
And while I did not feel magically better, I may have found a bit more space for breathe.
We keep on making the best of it.
I got on Zoom with my first coaching client of the day and asked how she was. Stressed, she said, and that she had not done her morning meditation. Would you like to meditate together right now? I asked.
We keep on making the best of it.
We sat for five minutes and I remembered how long five minutes can be though all I can think now is how long those babies waited for the help that never came.
We keep on making the best of it.
After that call I did exactly one sun salutation barefoot in the kitchen, dirty floor notwithstanding.
We keep on making the best of it.
I made a dinner reservation for three to welcome a friend who just moved to the area and texted her the fancy drinks menu though I hardly drink.
We keep on making the best of it.
My spouse and I drove to town and got donuts for lunch from the donut shop that's closing on Sunday because of the pandemic. Blueberry glazed for him, Boston cream for me.
We keep on making the best of it.
And my cutie-pie daughter came over for a spontaneous half hour and told me All the Things. I never tire of watching her grow and discover herself.
We keep on making the best of it.
I took the dog outside to poop and pee and sniff and patrol.
We keep on making the best of it.
Met with another client whose freewrites lit our imaginations up and who said they felt energized at the end of our call. Yay.
We keep on making the best of it.
My son came by after school to grab a few things before riding his bike across town to his Dad's house. "You're a good man, Charlie Brown," I like to tell him.
We keep on making the best of it.
Suddenly famished, I made myself some proper food – scrambled eggs with cheese and tomatoes and corn tortillas.
We keep on making the best of it.
Then set out for a walk before my Thursday evening writing group.
We keep on making the best of it.
Not my usual route, there must've been a reason I went the way I did.
LABYRINTH
All are welcome
to walk it
And so I did. I turned off my music and I walked the small, lovingly designed labyrinth. Grateful for the slow and the silence and the guidance.
On the way in, I felt I was moving away from the center but found my way to the folding chair waiting there. I sat for a minute. On the way out, I felt I was moving inward yet the path delivered me back to the world.
We keep on making the best of it.
Returned home. Returned to myself. Returned to news of another shooting. Returned to the knowing that contemplative and creative practices are ever available, if only we make room. Returned to a group of humans who devoted time to write alone together.
Returned to this life, with all of its pieces and moving parts.
We keep on making the best of it.
In my Thursday Night Live writing group (new session coming in the fall – stay tuned!), some weeks we write together with a prompt and a timer. Last night, I shared this poem by former Poet Laureate Kay Ryan, which served as the inspiration for this piece.
The Best of It
However carved up
or pared down we get,
we keep on making
the best of it as though
it doesn’t matter that
our acre’s down to
a square foot. As
though our garden
could be one bean
and we’d rejoice if
it flourishes, as
though one bean
could nourish us.