I’m listening to the new Bon Iver album for what is, honestly, probably the hundredth time this week.
Today’s weather is perfect. The sun is out but without threats to burn or cause a sweat. The breeze is faint but cool, and from upstairs I can hear the blinds being sucked into the open screen every so often. I’m content here, sipping hot tea and nibbling a leftover slice of homemade cake. A swirled-chocolate-pumpkin-bundt-cake, to be precise.
As the days continue, I am getting more and more comfortable with my time at home, and rarely feel without purpose. Things are getting done, relationships are being tended to, and life is being designed.
The strangest part, really, is how different one week is from the next. I have a planner that I use daily and love love LOVE, but as much as I try to anticipate what next Thursday will be, the picture is rarely complete.
Lunch dates come up. Or opportunities for new experiences. Or the shelves above the dining room table *need* rearranging, and also, the two things I couldn’t cross off my to-do list on Monday are still there on Thursday and are mocking me and I’m over them so I’m procrastinating.
Stuff like that.
None of it is bad, but again, it's different. I’m a woman of routine and expectations and plans, and my biggest lesson in the last few months has been remembering that just because this Wednesday didn’t look anything like last Wednesday doesn’t mean I have done something wrong or off-script or unproductive.
My days are simply more elastic now. They are moldable and adaptable and won’t always resemble each other, and that’s okay. The beauty is that time is my friend, and I can choose how to organize those minutes and hours into moments that give life and bring joy. This is a privilege; it is freeing but brimming with responsibility, and I hope to remember that.
This morning I re-joined the yoga studio I was apart of when I first moved to Pasadena, and I am SO excited. Yoga is the only fitness-related-activity that I have ever claimed loving, and have ever done consistently, and being back on that mat is a homecoming I couldn’t have dreamed of. When I bend to touch my toes, my hamstrings feel the effects of their earlier reawakening, a welcome reminder of the work they did.
I’m also starting a small, book-editing project, and am elated. It can be overwhelming at first, and many doubts say hiiiiiiiiiii, I’m heeeeeere tooooooooo, but really, I know I’m going to do a good job with the knowledge and experience I do have, and I am eternally grateful to be given a chance at all. Writing is my jam, but editing is my jam too.
Bon Iver has sung his 10 songs twice through now, and I’m ready for the next thing. I'm happy to have been here, and hope it won’t be as long until I’m back again.