open (forever)
On the morning that I sit in our room we’ve deemed The Cozy Room, I curl into the soft grey chair by the windows. On the piano, there’s a bottle filled with twinkle lights. The light is soft, the air is quiet, the coffee sweet on my tongue. I want to stay here (almost) forever.
On the morning that I sit at the kitchen counter, I light a candle and spread my books and notebooks and pens across the counter. I play music, I scribble words, I sip tea.
On the morning that I sit at the dining room table, I have the same books and notebooks and pens and candle and coffee. There is more space here. My words reflect that space. I open and close, then open again. I want to stay open (always) forever.
We walk the dog each day and the weather over the past week bounces between mild and sunny, cold and windy. It confuses me, this bouncing, and something inside me doesn’t quite know how to land. I try to be happy with the mild and sunny; I know most folks love this weather. I do, too, in September and October. But now, I long for the cold, crisp, wintry air to settle in with its solid edges. Edges that invite me to counteract – to complement – with softness. I like the interplay, the crossing of lines, the melting of edges, the testing of boundaries. Not a challenge, but an invitation. Welcome, Winter. I’m ready.
I lead a group of gentle, fearless souls through a meditation, then we write. We share words and hearts and silence. This is a turning point in my week, a softening for me (and I hope for them), an opening. I am grateful.
I think to the future. My daughter will go off to college in the blink of an eye, if the blink of an eye is twenty months. It is, to me. Blink, she is gone. Breathe, I tell myself. Make her a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, watch her film her video for Spanish class, kiss her good night. We are still here.
Here, and open (forever).
Happiness, not in another place but this place…not for another hour, but this hour.
~ Walt Whitman ~
P.S. Looking for a quiet practice as we round into the holiday season? Join us for creative list writing in a five-day class that encourages thoughtful reflection and gentle growth. Just Five Things :: Holiday Edition, December 6-10. Register here.
P.P.S. Interested in joining a gathering like the one I mentioned in today's piece? That gathering of gentle, fearless souls? That could be you too. I have a few spots left for our December gathering. The Quiet Page, December 15, 2-3:15pm ET. Register here.