I was writing this morning.  About dreams and summer.  I was writing about a second cup of tea and the view outside.  About the sounds of morning and the promise of the day.   Then I looked to my right.  At my kitchen.  At dishes that clutter my sink.  The trash I gathered to go out.  A dead rosemary plant.   a floor that needs swept.  and a clock that says 8:21…  The promise of the day.


walking with

I try really hard to treat people like I want to be treated.  (yes, sometimes I fail.  I do fail.)    It took me a long time to see that I am included in that category.  And I am still learning what that means.  But today I actually heard myself tell someone close to me that she should be as kind to herself as she is to others.  I don’t mean spa-day, although maybe.  I mean being kind.  being gentle with ourselves when we’re hurting.  being patient.  setting boundaries where others are concerned.  and being careful to walk with people who constantly surprise us by doing the same thing.

the calm of july

Last night, I had a conversation with someone about living a life that is about who we are instead of what we do.  And I realized that as I was talking, I was speaking the words to me.  I had just spent most of my day off wrangling finances and working on quarterly taxes and managing client billing.  All things that need to be done, right?  But by midnight, I felt like I had lost a day.  A summer day in July.  And I felt like the only thing multi-tasking did was make me busier.  to what end… ?  Tomorrow is July 17th.  And I’m going to do summer.  Brunch.  By the pool.  That’s all…


sometimes summer

is perfectly timed.


and again…

It seems I am always being brought back to a place of Quiet.  Waiting.  Listening.  Usually after a humbling experience that I hate while I am in the middle of and grateful for afterward.  I have often wondered how much time I would save by being humbled first.  waiting.  listening.  waiting some more…

at the very least I might not have to apologize so much.


the need not to forget

And the lesson is just this… when we forget to cherish… to celebrate… even for a day, the very things we love can vanish.  They not only can, they will.  I forgot.  So, the focus became small needs not being met and petty differences, instead of just being grateful for the very rare experience of true love.  To go forward with that regret, is weighty but to stay in the regret is deadly, so on I go.  Again.  And again with hope.  That I have learned something.  That I have learned what precious means.  That I have learned to protect precious things, loosely.  and well.  and not to forget…