let not the weight of this
bend you
bow you
break you
straighten your spine
lift your head
turn your back to the wind
smile at strangers
and the mirror
wave at whom-so-ever’s in the car
passing you on the road
give
somehow, some way, each day
grow
walk new paths
learn something
create something
breathe
dream dreams
you never knew you had
be you
a new you
but you
still
As of yesterday, I am one quarter of the way through the 100 Day Project.
Originating in 2010, the 100 Day Project originated with Yale University Art Professor, Michael Bierut, as a graduate level graphic design project. You can read about it and see some of his favorite projects here. His instructions were fairly open: choose a creative operation you can repeat in some form or fashion for 100 days.
Elle Luna, artist and author of The Crossroads of Should and Must, brought the project to Instagram in 2014, where its continued since. You can start any day you’d like, of course, but the next “official” start date is on April 7th. You can read about the project here.
My own project is wide-open, if not a little vague: 100 Days of Photography.
So what have I learned 25 days in?
I spend almost all day Monday through Friday making decisions. For myself, yes, but mostly for other people. It’s part of my job. I’m granted a lot of freedom. Choices. And the autonomy to make them. All of which I’m very grateful for.
But sometimes tired too. By the time the end of the work day or the weekend rolls along, it’s a challenge to make even one more decision. I’m decision weary.
Should I stay late or go in early? Home or gym? Cook or order in? News or Netflix? More often than I care to admit, my book gathers dust on my bedside table while I choose to scroll Instagram. A choice and decision I almost always regret.
Maybe my want-tos are all tangled up with my should-dos. Too many choices can overwhelm. And often there’s others to consider. What would he want? What choice would they make?
Sometimes decisions are mutually exclusive, and I want them both. Or both choices are necessary and pressing so I need them both. Sometimes I simply can’t make up my mind.
I want this and that. When and where is there room for both? For both and instead of either or?
I think the answer is: as often as possible.
More often than not these days, I’m compromising between wants and needs, work and play, and all of the shoulds, musts, and coulds. It’s thoughtful decision making at the end of the day. Tired or not, it’s finding room for a little bit of this and that.
And I’m happier for it.
The passage of time is predictable, of course, as are most of the ways I use my allotment. There’s a rhythm to my schedule and a routine. Some days, you’ll hear me complain about how little time I have. A common theme. It’s difficult to finagle a few minutes to do what I love, to be the friend I want to be, or finally get around to what I’ve been meaning to get done for weeks.
Come to find out: the time’s been there all along. I just needed to find it.
This week, I found time to:
Find time. Go look. It’s there.
Promise.
January’s been … long.
And full. Purposeful. Mindful. Meaningful. Grateful.
I’ve felt powerful: building my physical strength and stamina. Resourceful: planning relevant experiences for my students. Sorrowful: remembering the first anniversary of my mother’s passing. And, of course, hopeful: beginning each and every day this month filling the pages of my journal with gratitude, guidance, goals, and hope for grace.
I’ve lived faithfully: honoring my commitment to #the100dayproject with at least a photograph a day – – showing up at the gym more days in January than not – – devoting time and effort to my health, diet, and overall well being.
There’s been wistful days, joyful days, and stressful days. More ups than downs, thankfully. A few trips and falls, painfully. Many new insights, realizations, and emotional turn-abouts, helpfully.
In other words, life’s been plentiful. And I’m taking one more deep, full breath of January and the fresh, clean air of a new year.
Thirty-one days.
Heart full.
3
Go gently into Monday.
Smile first.
Be the better start to someone’s week than they anticipated.
Look for soft spots to land.
Live this moment – and only this moment – one by one by one.
Aware. Grateful. Calm.
First things first and save the rest.
Find a moment in your day to lift your face to the sun,
Or close your eyes and breathe.
Or both.
Savor life.
Step lightly.
Be the peace you wish to see in the world.
morning light
and iris
and one solitary moment in the garden
dew drops on clover
and one quiet moment of grace
About 14 hours will pass from the time I leave home this morning until I return much later tonight. And as I’m about to start walking the thousands of steps I’ll walk in this day, I find myself wondering how I’ll be changed by the time I return.
So much of life changes slowly, too slowly almost to recognize any change as it’s happening. But I wonder if I focus on the noticing of the steps, minutes, and hours in this day, I’ll be able to observe more closely the subtleties of a life — my life.
Because sometimes, of course, life change is more dramatic, sudden, and infinitely more unpredictable. According to the Ecology Global Network, 210,000 people will be born in the 14 hours I’m away from home and 88,424 will die. Beginnings and endings. And every bit of living in beween.
In the 24 hour revolution of this single day, the earth journeys 1/365 of its way around the sun.
And we’re all along for the ride.
Day up to down, wake to sleep, we’ll live the day we’ve been given. We’ll speak, daydream, smile, share, hug, read, write and maybe pray.
Hopefully, we’ll listen – maybe even more than we speak. The people in our lives have a lot to say.
We’ll worry, debate, and weigh our options. We’ll answer and ask questions. We’ll plan, opt-in or out, and make decisions. We’ll talk, text, email, and call.
We’ll think. We all have a lot on our minds.
Some of the day’s 24 hours are scheduled. If we’re lucky, we choose how we spend the rest. We’ll eat, drink, sleep – some soundly, some restlessly. Maybe we’ll spend the day inside. Or out. We’ll exercise or not. Adventure or stay home.
Come what may, we’ll find our way.
The world’s out there waiting for me … and you, too. Ler’s walk out into it – arms wide open and willing to change and be changed.
One thing’s for sure: no other day in your life will be lived exactly like today.
I reckon my feet know where they want me to go … walkin’ on a country road.
~James Taylor
The smell of this Sunday’s stroll brought me back to childhood.
I lived two weeks a summer visiting family in northern New Hampshire, skinning my knees, chasing after fireflies, and plucking wildflowers from fields filled with long grasses and a whole bunch of bees.
I could smell all those memories yesterday afternoon walking on a country road.
We kept company with goats and turkeys, and we’re newly nodding acquaintances with an old Mack truck backed up into the woods.
Country roads are like that.
You never know who or what you’ll meet along the way.
Nothing fancy out there, probably, but the breathing’s easier and life feels just that much simpler.
It’s like finding a little bit of freedom.
Because when you’re walkin’ on a country road, the distance may be long – but the pace is slow.
And the burdens don’t feel quite so heavy.
Spring’s here, summer’s coming, and I’m going walking.
Every day, probably, but especially on Sunday.
Each Sunday, I’m planning a walkabout. You know, a walking tour somewhere away and beyond the usual. Somewhere new and undiscovered – at least by me.
And I’ll share it all here – with you. You’ll see everything I’ve seen along the way.
Like a blogging picture postcard.
Maybe a line or two? A note from one life traveler to another.
P.S. I hope you write back.
one hopeful year 