I feel the thoughts spreading like wildfire. I think I feel them, or maybe I hear them, does it matter? I only know that if I don’t extinguish the flames soon they will burn everything down. I take another sip, noting the warmth of the mug in my hands, delighting in the sweetness upon my tongue. First, this.
The calendar page turns: December. With abandon, the Christmas music I listened to quietly at my desk (and only instrumental) now plays in the kitchen, in the car (now with singers, with lyrics, the full design). There is something about this music that fills me. I am all about the songs, the lights, the greenery. I am all about the spirit that rises from people without their knowing it. Like wildfire, it spreads, uncontained, in the most glorious way, before anyone can stop it. The fire burns bright, calling people back to goodwill, lighting the way, reminding them there is goodness, there is cheer. Feeding the fire is a touch of something new and lighter, something new yet familiar. What feeds the fire is love. The world will go on; in a month, the calendar page will turn: January. But first, this.
I steep in the December-generous smiles of passersby. I pull my hat down over my ears to block the wind. I quicken my pace, not because I’m in a hurry but because I am floating. Warm air rises, yes? I am warm air, I am spacious, my molecules sprinkled wide and dancing. I need to do things 1-2-3 on my list soon. But first, this.
I begin the day with poetry and twinkle lights. Though it might be nice to spend the entire day in this way, with the economy of words and lights dripping across piano, it’s also sweet as the interlude that it is. Not an overindulgence but something temporal, something marked, a quiet observance, a liturgy of my soul. I will carry this quiet – this cheer – this rooting into here and now into my day, my week. Or, I will try. They tell me to hurry, to get a move on. But first, this.
When you cultivate this love, it gives you clarity and compassion for life,
and your actions happen in accordance with that.
~ Jon Kabat-Zinn ~
P.S. Last chance to sign up for a lovely week with me and my list-writing friends!
Just Five Things :: Mini Holiday Edition runs December 6-10 (well, actually through the 11th, since I’m adding a bonus day. xo). Registration closes today, 12/3.