11/30/23

I have strayed from my routine, and the words are not flowing as easily as I would like today.

And that’s okay.

Yesterday, I had an unexpectedly social day, and my morning routine was interrupted. I wasn’t able to get back on track.

And that’s okay.

I was productive socially. I made no mark on paper or canvas or wood. But I made my mark on people I love. Marked time. Shared space. Good memories.

So many are focused on making a product, but what if the only product that counts are memories? The problem with memories, though is that they are entirely ephemeral. They are subjective, even to the memory holder. Take an event that produced a positive memory. Now, pull up that memory on a bad day. Suddenly the positivity of that memory comes into doubt.

Revisit a fading memory enough, and it can become a bad memory. The same holds true if you reverse the polarity of the emotion of the situation. But if you can attach a physical totem to the memory, it may hold more firm for longer. A blanket from a grandmother will always evoke warm memories of one’s grandma. A wine glass from grandma’s collection may trigger happy memories of the good times but also more troubling memories of the time nana got drunk and plopped her boobs out on the canasta board. What an Easter that was!

Memorex or something. I lost my train of thought.

I rescued some windows from a house my friend is rehabbing. I intend to use them in spring garden projects. I want to build a little greenhouse box to start veggies in late winter. I’m going to need to do a little research on how to do it well. I may just want to build seed starter boxes. I’m also considering a cold tunnel system. Is that what they’re called? It’s like a vine trellis that starts the season covered with clear tarp to give the plants a head start and a little protection.

Anyhow, I’m taking advantage of the relatively warm recent days to get some things done outdoors so that my spring efforts will be a little bit easier.

One of the things I enjoy about my routine is spending time outdoors, but it becomes so uncomfortable in the winter. It’s time consuming to bundle up. It’s not a good feeling to go meditate under a tree when it’s only 50 degrees out. So I have to do what I can to enjoy the outdoors that I’ve brought in. I wait until the gentle warmth of the afternoon to take walks around the block. Get my heart rate up. Maybe carry that momentum to the basement gym and lift a little. Maybe this morning I’ll look up Adrienne on Youtube and do one of her yoga routines for back pain. Maybe I’ll find a local yoga class and participate in the community of yoga.

I dislike using the word maybe in my writing. I use it as a crutch sometimes.

Maybe carry that momentum to the basement gym and lift a little. Maybe this morning I’ll look up Adrienne on Youtube and do one of her yoga routines for back pain. Maybe I’ll find…

See how lazy that is? Make a fucking decision. Oh, yes, we’re going to drop an occasional curse word in my morning pages.

I don’t want a “Maybe Life.” I want a bold life. I want to carry that momentum into the basement gym. I want to find a local yoga class. There are no maybes about that. I think that when I’m writing, there is some part of my unconscious that gives me wriggle room – especially when writing about my own future. That’s where my maybes show up.

Maybe doesn’t fix back pain. Maybe doesn’t pump your heart. Maybe isn’t bold.

I need to address that in my writing soon.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *