I’ve had a walking boot on my right foot for six weeks now. Two of those weeks, I used crutches or a scooter to avoid weight bearing at all. I’m grateful I can walk as much as I want now with the boot and I do. Of course I’m a bit slower these days and it looks really silly when I try to run–galumph, galumph–but I can appreciate a slow walk.
When I took the dogs out mid-morning, I counted six robins helping each other cross the street. I noticed that most of our neighbors have chairs (Adirondack, usually) on their front porches and lawns and wondered if soon they’ll be coming out of their houses to sit in the sun. One neighbor wasn’t hesitating. He sat shirtless soaking up the sun, singing, playing his guitar. Blossoms pink and white have popped out on long barren tree limbs and the sweet smell of flowers is in the air.
I did well with my new writing schedule all week, the the weekend hit. Writing at home is a real struggle for me. I am going to try a new strategy this week and also start a process journal. I read about the idea of keeping a process journal in The Art Of Slow Writing. The idea is to write about the process of your current work at least before or after each writing session. To write about struggles, ideas, strategies for getting work done in order to see solutions and patterns that emerge. I’ll start my journal today and see how it goes, but I have a suspicion it’s going to work for me.
We lost an hour and we’ve forgotten about it already. Can I keep a reasonable pace as I begin another school week? I had a bout of anxiety just as I was falling asleep last night. Out of nowhere there it was, a fear so deep and global I couldn’t even pin it down, chased it around in my mind for a while. I’m not sure how long I laid there panicked before I remembered to take a deep inhalation followed by a long exhalation and repeat as necessary to fall asleep. It seemed like forever.