A new month. Hurray! Time to pen some dreams. Vision some happenings to be. One of my favorite times, and it comes twelve! I wrote over 1,550 words yesterday and today I feel a bit sparse. A Halloween parade enjoyed with the Gentlemen last night. Fun in the cold until youngest one got too cold and protested. Loudly. Non stop. So home we went. Lots of sugar filled our bags. I think the time was fun for all. Tradition. Family. Important.
I was given a card for a readjustment counseling technician and readjustment counseling service. From the Universe? Fate? Meant to be? Just a tease? Am I on the right path? One never knows I suppose, just one step at a time. Taken in faith. Here I go.
Mr. B read the last three days worth of words, after I asked him to. Thank you. It makes me a little nervous. Writing to an unknown, unseen, perhaps even unreal crowd is no big deal but writing to one about one. Scary. Quantity vs. Quality. I have struggled with this for as long as I can remember. I wanted, and still want, to do things big. Lots of people. If it doesn’t go out to hundreds, what’s the point?! I have found loving, teaching and being with a small group of people-namely the three gentlemen sharing a home with me-is the most challenging job I have ever taken on. Being with someone so much and being so much to them is a lot of responsibility and pressure. It’s beautiful and wonderful. It scares me. It keeps me up at night. Makes me constantly wonder if I am screwing them up. When I taught a group of people (mostly fitness classes), it wasn’t my responsibility to make them do anything. I was there to exercise, speak aloud what I was doing and if they joined me, fine. If they didn’t, fine. It didn’t ultimately matter. This does. These do. Pressure! They matter so much to me that it sometimes freezes me in awe and a stunned stupor. I don’t want to live stressed. Trying to control. I want to feel light. I want my children to know my smile more than my frown. To see me giggle with glee instead of rage with frustration. I want them to remember their mother having fun, acting silly and making art. My life is my art. For them. For the one who created all of this. Beauty. Mayhem. Love.
The wind rustles the giant feathery plant stalks in our backyard and the sunshine holds onto each golden leaf on the tree. The leaves are almost gone, blowing around on the ground and into piles. What do I want to do with this season of fall and approaching winter? I want to sip hot coffee and read books. To cuddle my Littles and make a blanket (?). Maybe a scarf too. Move closer to a gluten free household. Nourish my family and myself with healthy, whole food. We can always use more dance parties. More paint messes and even more play-dough balls. Draw turkeys from handprints. Giant paper trees with leaves marking gratitude. Time to hop on Pinterest and start looking for the how-tos on this fun stuff!
I need to come up with a gratitude journal idea for my support group, and me. An enchanting place to write down the blessing which abound around us. Verses and quotes to remind what it’s all for. The remembering of our days, the moments that are magic, the times which are lovely. Also to remember the ‘brutiful’ as Glennon Doyle Melton would say. The brutal, beautiful that is life. Remember the spilled juice, the dirty diapers, the needing to be scrubbed floors. There is beauty and gratitude there too, right? Those things shine bright with our awareness. Notice. Reflect.
I think I am done for today at 700+ words. Yesterday was a bit more so it evens out. Because I have dreams to dream and fun to plan!