This morning I woke up feeling like I’m stuck in the movie, Groundhog Day, repeating the same routines over and over again. I fed the cats, cleaned their litter boxes, refreshed their water, then went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
Still in process and doing my best to make sense out of a senseless event, I’ve been sitting with the inner storm and its aftermath. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired. Exhausted, actually. And fed up.
A winter period in life is a time when we’re invited to stop and pull inward (regardless of the actual season). Like a plant that goes dormant in the cold and darkness, there are times when we, too, need to go dark for a while in order to grow.
This afternoon, after doing a bit of work and making pesto from basil in the garden, I was washing up at the kitchen sink when a wave of anxiety hit. I felt myself brace at the familiar, unpleasant feeling.
Great expectations. That's the phrase I'm using these days to help me stay aligned with the experiences I most want to enjoy in life. I love expecting things to be easy, to be fun, to happen exactly when they should and in the best possible way.
I woke just after 7am today to watch the sunrise, a wash of fiery red and orange fading to soft pinks and peaches on her ascent. I’ve grown to appreciate these daily rituals for the reliability and grounding they offer during unsteady times.
Well, winter has finally arrived here in our neck of the woods. Yesterday we had our first Nor’easter, and while the prediction was a foot of snow, we ended up with a couple of inches and I’m happy to enjoy that as a starter.