The backyard is waking up. A clump of chives is taking hold in one of the raised beds. The arugula is already four inches tall, proud that it made it through winter. A scraggle of kale is trying to decide what to do. There’s room for lettuce and radishes, cilantro and parsley, if I take the cue.
The birds are back, too. What was it that Russ said last night, as he heard the robin’s call: Hey ladies, I found a nice penthouse for the season. Come on over and join me … or something like that.
I wish I felt this zippy. I wish I had a spring in my step.
Tax season is one of the reasons I’m blue. Forcing me to look at the receipts. The ones that say, “This is a sad state of affairs.”
I’ve been looking for a job for about a year. When I’m not doing that or writing ditties in this space, I’m working on a memoir. A memoir that explores what happens when you stir the pot instead of letting the burned-on bits stay stuck to the bottom. When you go to the source of generational trauma instead of accepting things the way they’ve always been.
It’s heavy, I know. And yet I’ve got a partner covering most of the expenses while I keep looking. Friends who check in and love me up. I’ve got the occasional freelance assignment. I’ve got jars of grains and legumes and nuts and seeds and really good coffee and a cabinet of homemade jam, pickles, and crushed tomatoes. I’ve got books by my bedside. I don’t have to worry about bombs dropping in the night.
In the scheme of things, in this moment of the world, I’m really doing quite okay. Even when it feels like I’m not.
In yoga, we do the same poses time after time. The poses never evolve. We do. Some days, my arm just won’t go alongside my ear in extended side angle. It’s uncomfortable and rigid. Can I breathe into the tightness. Can I sit with the discomfort of not getting exactly what I want?
I’m asking this question of you and of myself. I’m asking if you can relate.
What can we do when life feels less easeful than we’d like? What gets you through the days and weeks when the light around you feels dim?
We keep showing up. Back on the mat, back in the yard with the bird symphony and the scraggle of kale and a coupla seed packets. Back and forth, okay to sometimes not be okay.
xokod
P.S. My Spring Forward Soup recipe + a template for designing your own vegetable puree in the latest issue of PCC Sound Consumer.
All so spot on, especially the yoga metaphor. Thank you.
Totally get this feeling! Thinking of you!