put things away
live a day without a list
sit in silence
write it out, walk it out, talk it out
pick up a book – read – and escape, however briefly, into a world not your own
do unto others
breathe in deeply
again
and again
and again
spend time with a child
hope
I like to lose track of time.
I like to be so delightfully involved in what I’m doing, I couldn’t possibly pay attention to the sun’s rise or fall or the hands moving around the face of a clock.
My sewing project is an example. It’s a project worthy of concentration. Measuring. Cutting with precision. Pinning. Pressing. Measuring again. Stitching. (Perhaps . . . ripping … when necessary.)
Problem is, modern pasttimes distract me.
Through no one’s fault but my own, I’m not as able to concentrate.
When a was a kid, I remember my mother asking me, “If everyone else jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you jump too?” And if she were to ask me today, in 2025, I’d probably answer yes because no matter what everyone else is doing, I spend more time on-screen than I’d like to admit.
Especially to myself.
I enjoy expressing myself on social media. And I love blogging.
What’s also true though is the fact that some of my best ideas come when I’m so immersed, I’ve lost all sense of self. It’s like I’ve escaped myself and find myself all at the same time. No ego. No identity.
Only pure thought.
I’m not sure being on-screen helps me achieve such a state.
As always, I suppose, it’s a matter of balance. A balance of off-line reading and learning with online research and discovery. Balancing relationships here and there. Signing off when I can longer hear myself think. And remembering to press pause once in a while to feel the sun (and cold wind) on my face.
It’s another hopeful year. I’m so glad to be here.
Apparently, it only takes four mixing bowls and thirteen ingredients to lift my mood.
Scoop. Measure. Weigh. Combine . Stir.
Ingredients I control. An outcome I can manage. Actions that make a difference.
This morning my husband came in from the cold, snow, and sleet to a warm house and muffins just out of the oven.
One thing I can do for the benefit of another.
An action – a tiny teaspoon – toward making someone’s world better.
Mood lifted, heart engaged, soul encouraged.
Yes. There is work to be done. Start small.
“I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.”
― Edward Everett Hale
I discovered a pint of strawberries in my teacher book bag last week – an entire day after grocery shopping. I have no memory of placing them there, nor did I notice them missing from their usual spot in the fridge.
I guess I just wasn’t thinking.
Or I was thinking — just not about the groceries, or specifically, the strawberries.
I’m sure the strawberries are symptomatic of a lack of attention. Day by day I notice my fragmented focus — living as I do in an increasingly fragmented world.
There’s simply not enough of my attention to go around.
In 1971 American spiritual guide, Ram Dass, published a book entitled Be Here Now. I’ve not read the book, but I’ve read some of his teachings and heard the title phrase used by others. And if that phrase were a piece of clothing I could wear, I’m sure it would fit me just fine. Today. Now.
It’s a practice, I think. The practice of living each and every moment on its own and for its own merit. Being and breathing and living exactly where I am … and who I am. Hopeful or not. Here now is exactly when and where and who I want to be.
I’d like to gather the fragments of my mind and my tattered attention and focus my way to whole again.
I’d like to remember what I was going to say before my own thoughts so rudely interrupted me. I’d like to reclaim linear thinking and conversation, so I pursue a topic from beginning to end.
I’d like to put the strawberries away — where they belong.
As of today, I quit complaining.
My complaints, as I see it, fall into two categories: within my circle of control or beyond it.
Either way, I know what I put out, I’ll almost certainly receive in return. And isn’t it true? Fault-finding is habit forming?
Oh, I know it won’t be easy.
There’s a lot just now that feels worthy of complaint or at least acknowledgement that all is not as it should be. Says me. And make no mistake: I am waving no white flag. Nor am I accepting all things as they are without dreaming of what they could be.
But I do recognize I can be bigger than the sum of my annoyance. My discomfort. My disappointment. My anger. And I do know I can look for ideas, solutions, strategies, and alternatives so I can participate in problem-solving towards solutions.
I know – intellectually at least – complaining only adds to problems and contributes nothing meaningful toward their resolution.
This is a choice. A practice. A promise.
A habit of hope.
one hopeful year 