A blog on Budapest is in development, but then there was this headache...
This pile of papers reminds me that every mountain top moment is preceded by an arduous climb and followed by a descent into the mundane, where foundational character is built and dirty floors are swept.
This excessive collection of travel books, along with the opportunity to use them, signals that I am gradually shifting focus to spending more on experiences and less on things while a peek in my closet gently tells me there is still more work to do.
This unrelenting headache, though I wish it away, my real-time cue to remember that I get to choose my thought patterns, every moment of every day.
This unhurried cup of coffee reminds me that I have moved beyond the busy zone to a place where relationships have room to breathe and ideas to percolate, where journals are friends and clocks not masters.
This padded belly, which no longer responds to my crash demands, jests at the number of rice cakes I’ve been spared and softly urges me to drop and do a few crunches because ten minutes of exercise is better than none.
This unpredictable flicker of self-doubt in the steady stream of other people’s greater intelligence/beauty/achievement/fill in the blank, where a quick scan of my rank only caves me in, is not a call to action to compare but a cause to celebrate for a world where gifts and talents are widely scattered.
The magnitude of disquieting news around the world now piped into all our homes, an urgent invitation to move from the couch to our knees and to call the “me train” into the station for a moment.
This modest ring on my finger compels me to count the years that I have been well cherished, and think of those who are in between seasons of being someone’s most prized gift.
This wrinkle, no these wrinkles, which carry the stories of my many sunny days lived. The contrasting smoothness of my child’s skin a summons to drink up the beauty of being able to pass on those stories.
This reach for my phone to connect a flag that I have flesh and blood in the other room if not waiting at least open to a story-time interruption, eager to lavish on more than just a “like” for well-placed humor and drama.
The recall of only yesterday, in all its unremarkable and yet unforeseen twists and halts, which shouts at me once again to stop fantasizing that future-proofing is possible. It is not.
It is today, and it’s an ordinary day. Most of them are. However, I’ve temporarily sidelined worry and spent time on the floor with crumbs, crunches and petitions. With that, I’ve gotten some clearance to see that today’s harrumphs deserve a round of applause – headache and all.