Monday, May 19
When my alarm went of this morning, a cool breeze crept in. It was glorious. I got up slowly and stretched. I decided it’s time to stop rushing through my mornings and to treat them as sacred. So, I took the time to do a writer’s prompt – a 10-15 minute dedication to writing (no edits, just stream of consciousness writing) on the following topic: morning.
And this is what I wrote in my notebook:
In the quiet, dignified hours of my day, I try to create peace so that I can slowly, meditatively open up to morning. I think of the song Silent Lucidity by Queensryche, a lovely sound that parallels the rhythm of my ideal morning. Listening to this song is like watching the sun rise. It is also the song that best illustrates my first love – a bittersweet reminder of tender, innocent, unconditional affection that blended with fumbling, inexperienced, immature adolescence. The song is a metaphor for my climb into love – in those nascient moments of learning to be someone’s sweetheart, in the time where my fears foiled my heart. I am now in the mid-day hour of my love life, still searching for the one to watch the sunset with, still somewhat afraid, but full of hope.
I am not an early riser, as I like to sleep until 8:00 a.m. That is an ideal time for me to gently wake up to the soothing sounds of my Tibetan gong alarm clock.
I like to stretch. I wish I could afford the time and money for a morning yoga class – power vinyassa or ‘hot yoga’. But, since that’s not an option for me now, I stretch. I’d love to go for a walk, to just look around and observe the way poet Mary Oliver does, wandering and taking in each sacred view, each natural beauty with wonder. But, I don’t have time for that…yet.
I like a light, healthy breakfast. With summer fruits and vegetables soon in season, I can’t wait for the bounty. I enjoy the process of making myself breakfast. I don’t drink coffee, but by mid-morning I’ll have my cup of tea.
I used to say that I wasn’t a morning person, but that’s not true. I just don’t like to start my day with work. Rather, I wish to create sacred ‘me’ time from the moment I wake until the time I am ready to take on the day. I need to ease into the work day.
After I wrote this prompt, I made myself an egg, a piece of gluten-free brown rice toast with a fresh basil and yellow tomato garnish. I consumed a nourishing glass of light orange juice. I prepared my lunch and then hopped into the shower for a quick salt scrub.
On my way to work I felt incredibly refreshed. My arms were a little sore from shooting my basketball yesterday.
I got to work and caught up on my regular morning check list of things to do to get organized. During my lunch I called the director of Fishtrap in order to register for a summer workshop. I have been advised to try to attend this. I can’t afford the week-long writer’s workshop and gathering and hope to get a partial scholarship. This would be an amazing opportunity to connect with other Oregon writers and will ultimately help me to get published in literary journals and magazines. I felt really good about this.
I took some of my work and went to the Coffee Cottage to work without distraction – phone, computer, email. I was able to work out the full first draft of our brochure. I was very pleased with this progress, feeling one part an editor and one part the writer.
I left work just after five to meet Shirley at the Upper Deck to watch the Redwings game. I didn’t get there until 5:45 p.m. I sipped on a cider, which wasn’t great. We nibbled on chips and salsa. Our new Redwings friends, Mike from Michigan and Chris, the new guy, watched the game with us. Shirley’ friend Molly showed up, along with Claudia, who actually missed the game. The Redwings defeated Dallas 4-1, moving on to the finals in the Stanley Cup against Pittsburgh. Go wings!
After, Claudia and I met Kerry at Susan at Veritable Quandary. We sat outside on the patio and had burgers - mine without the bun. It was fantastic. Susan and I shared a glass of a Portuguese red blend. Blame it on the full moon, but we were all very slapsticky. We just giggled over goofy stuff. It was nice to be light and to laugh.
When I got home I fixed a cup of ginger Yogi brand tea and began to write. I noticed on my painting of Samson and Delilah (by my friend Erin) that there was a ladybug crawling along the top ridge of the canvas. It eventually made its way up the wall. I smiled. According to the Victorians, a ladybug was good luck – the sign of providence.
