This morning has been beautiful. Kate Bilo says it will probably be the most beautiful weekend of the summer. I've got the windows thrown open. I'm sipping a good black tea. Writing in my morning journal.
And there it is.
Ugh! I forgot to write my blog yesterday. Can't believe I forgot. Well -- just relax. Did I really? I really did. And it is funny because I went to bed with the nagging feeling that I'd forgotten something. Well, I forgive myself. And I'll make it up before I do anything else this morning (and write a second one tonight) Just delayed a bit. Exhale.
I notice my self-talk is kind for a change. Mind you, I almost went to the dark place, catastophizing. I see where the beginnings of panic started to creep in. And where I pulled myself back from the edge. I realize that my daily writing practice may have become a point of pride. Showing up. Every. Single. Day. It's those places of pride that can bring us down.
As I type and re-read the excerpt from my morning journal above, I could almost miss it. But I don't.
Well, I forgive myself.
Where did that come from? Who could possibly have said that? So easily. So effortlessly. As if self-forgiveness is the most natural thing in the world.
I may have to think about this. Or not. Maybe I need just to notice this bit of grace and move along with my day. As if grace is the most natural thing in the world.
Later in my writing this morning,
Looks like I made a mess again. No. You just need to process what you've pulled out. What was once in one place needs to go someplace else. We can do that. And that bankers box will find a temporary home and there might be a bin in those DVDs future. Neater temporary measures. I'm doing what I didn't do last summer -- The Summer of Self-Love planted seeds.
And, no. I didn't plan that.
So. Some context. I am working through some belongings at home that need to be de-cluttered. There's too much stuff in my tiny apartment. Yesterday I went through the unit on which my television sits. It was crammed and stuffed with DVDs. Stuff I've loved to watch over the years, but it's too much. It needed dusting as well. And as much as I've loved those programs, I haven't gone near them in about three years. Their situation discouraged participation. So I went through it yesterday. Kept out only the things I absolutely adore and a small pile of DVDs I haven't opened yet. Then got busy with other things from a crammed and stuffed to-do list and went to bed with a stack of DVDs on the floor near the shelf I'd just cleaned. There were other small piles of recently de-cluttered corners.
This is usually where I frustrate my de-cluttering efforts. I go through something and then don't know what to do with it, so it stays piled up and becomes a new kind of clutter. But I'm happy to report that my living room floor is clear as I type. Between handwriting my morning journal and typing this blog post I've loaded a bankers box with the excess DVDs. Uncannily, they've fit exactly and filled the box. I stacked the box beneath a box of CDs facing a similar fate -- a three month check-in to decide whether they stay or go. Sometimes you need temporary measures to get from one place to the next and I've figured out a way to give myself neater temporary measures. I've also broken through something that has frustrated me for a long time.
And I've been kind to myself in the process. That's probably why I was able to break new ground.
The Great Summer Writing Retreat of 2019 continues. One hundred days of writing unedited ideas and following a prompt to its sometimes illogical conclusion. And showing up. Every. Single. Day.
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