Cleaning out my brush

Sometimes, it really is the small, mundane things that gives us the most value in life, should we choose to do them with intention and focus…

Washing a pile of dishes…, folding the laundry…, cleaning out the towel fuzz that has ended up in my brush…, making the bed with fresh sheets…

These are the places where a mindful, intentional, meditative action becomes infinitely more than just a simple task of keeping house, but puts us in touch with the universe, the Divine, that dwells somewhere within.

Post-a-day 2018

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Cry me a river

That cathartic cry…

… It really does make All the difference…

… even if it does come from a commercial for Shriner’s Children’s Hospitals, or from the fact that the shower keeps messing up, and today’s issue is that it is giving only freezing cold water, making it miserable alongside the sudden quite cold temperatures outdoors.

Sometimes, we just need to cry ourselves a river, so we can float on forward.

Post-a-day 2018

What happened today

I got out of bed at 3:45am, and met my friend outside at about 4:10am to drive to the airport.

I flew in an airplane to Chicago, where I met my cousins and then drove to Wisconsin.

We met with my brother and his friend at Devil’s Lake, and then hiked about six miles together around the lake.

We admired willingly the spectacular and deep-breathing-inspiring colors of the Fall, and awed at a Bald Eagle who flew over the lake for a bit.

We checked into our joined suite rooms, and then dunes down the street at an all-you-can-eat Mongolian stir-fry place, each eating more than we’d intended.

We gathered in the joined living area of the suite rooms, sipped digestifs, chatted about nonsense, played ukulele, practiced/learned some yoga and some acro-yoga, talked about nerd stuff, joked about my brother’s classmates back in college who argued about some terms in calculus, cracked up when my cousins began to argue about those terms in calculus, and consciously enjoyed our collective company.

I chatted more with my brother as he prepared for bed and I, unknowingly, was locked out of my room.

We laughed, and, eventually, I gained access back into my room with my cousins.

My cousin and I listened to voicemails from our grandparents, filled with wholesome delight.

I took the first good shower I’ve had in months (since the one where I’m living has been quite the nonsensical mess since I moved in there), and reminisced about Japanese onsen while I untangled a crazy knot in my extremely long hair.

I earned another badge in my Fitbit, because I walked over 22,000 steps today.

I stayed awake and in a good mood for over 19 hours.

I breathed easily almost the entire day, for the first time in a long while (it has felt, anyway).

I was myself, and so were the others, and we were spectacular.

I and we did good today, both grammatically correctly and incorrectly. 😉

Post-a-day 2018

Old men and fashion

It isn’t often that I hear an old man comment on clothing, – other than it being related to how impractical this or that might be – but the old men usually make it count whenever they do comment on an outfit.

Tonight, leaving the classroom, the professor asks me if my skirt is made out of coat-ties.

I tell him that it is and that my mom and I made it.

With big nods and a big grin, he tells me how he thought so, because, well, it’s one of the ones in the back part, yes that one there – he owns that tie… he has that same one!

I was totally tickled by it, and he was delighted at having recognized them as ties (because we removed the back seams and opened each of them up, making them double the width), and so we both just chuckled along the hallway on our ways out, delighting in the small world that involved my skirt. 😛

Post-a-day 2018

Babies making babies

How many 18-year-olds do you cross, where you think to yourself, ‘Yes, this person is well on his/her way to being a wonderful parent!’?

And yet, just a generation or two ago, the 18-year-olds were just about to become parents.

I haven’t even considered the fact that I don’t have children of my own, though I’m very post-college-aged, and yet my mother started having children when she was college-aged, and then she had already finished having her children long before the time when she was the age I am now.

I mean, sure, our bodies are primed for making babies when we’re around 20, but our brains seem to be on a different planet at that age.

Just about every male aged eighteen years is a total idiot so far as I’ve experienced… (Remember that I teach high school)… and, while the girls aren’t total idiots, they definitely don’t strike me as the motherly type.

Just a thought.

Post-a-day 2018