Weekly Letter: Falling in love with the process
I sit at the computer during my scheduled time and want to write something helpful. The cursor blinks and my mind becomes as blank as the screen. I open another window and begin to write. It’s nothing, things I’ve been working on, frustrations, highlights, memories, until something connects. Some theme emerges from the chaos on the page and I see what I’ve been working toward and the writing begins to move.
Friday mornings I take Finn to doggie daycare and then make my way through the grocery stores I need to go to. Sometimes I call a friend, my SIL in the car, sometimes I listen to piano music and drive. In the store I have a route I like to take, and I make sure I walk by the book kiosks even though my resolution was to read books I already have this year…there’s no harm in looking and feeling the presence of all these stories around me.
Pool days mean reading in the sunshine. Levi turns on jazz really low, setting the speaker in this boat-shaped shelf I hung on the fence protecting it from the sun. For hours we quietly alternate between floating and lounging with our books. Maybe there is a little nap mixed in. Maybe a snack of fresh tomatoes and pesto. The phones are inside. No one really talks much except for the locust in the distance with their soothing shriek marking the height of Summer.
Sunday mornings I walk the yard and pull the weeds, water anything that needs it, organize the outdoor space. During the 10 years I’ve lived in this house, the weeds get easier as the landscaping is less tentative and more established. Annuals get upgraded to perennials and then the work pivots to light maintenance. My old torn jeans get new tears and stains and reeks of effort made in the warm weather.
Sitting on my mat in the quiet of the room around me. I can hear the hum of the dehumidifier outside the door created insulation to my little yoga space. Freedom to move, to be and see what unfolds as my body changes shape and scope. Not putting words to anything, but seeing how the progression takes over the cues of sensation and the mind begins to wander around inside. The breath, a constant guide through my own inner landscape and for a time, the most peaceful of all the sounds.
I find myself in love with the process of it all. The rhythm of the routine and seeing over time how these efforts change shape. Dreading the part is when something is over, but reminding myself there is an opportunity to do it again, to reawaken the process to see what happens the next time. To being able to live in the magic of the moment and not rushing to get to the end, because it’s the middle which is the most amazing part.
~Carmen
