As I write this, I’m sitting on my back porch, with three sleeping dogs and two lounging cats scattered about like furniture. It is a rare cool day here in June, with a slight breeze and birds. I have a cup of tea, and an hour to write before the studying recommences.
And to be honest, it’s just a lovely moment. It’s easy and quiet, and I don’t even care if I spend that hour staring out at the dappled shade rather than making progress, being productive. Because there simply aren’t enough of these moments in life.
I’ve been pretty tightly wound lately, waiting for NW to be deemed ready, and too often I’ve found myself holding my breath, and often literally. I realize the stress is self-imposed. It’s a facet of my nature to obsess over things I have no control over, and then try to over-control the things I do have a measure of say in.
But sitting here right now, I am just going to breathe.
A very dear friend gave me a piece of art for graduation that said All is Well. The cynic or the psychoanalyst or pretty much any part of me watching the book industry, watching grad school acceptance rates, watching anything besides this gorgeous morning, would disagree. But just for a few moments, I’m going to let all be well. It might only last those few moments, but half the battle is recognizing those beautiful moments when they present themselves, and not being so consumed by life as to be blind.
I might be stressed, distracted, caught up, but I like to think I am not blind. These small moments of peace are essential to sanity. And so, while the logical part of me says, Do Something, the part of me that needs this says, I am.