If I’m honest, I haven’t been doing so well on keeping up with obligations.
The apartment is untidy, laundry is piling up, dishes are stacked in the sink. I’ve been reaching for comfort food more often than healthy food, I haven’t done a single yoga pose in two weeks. I’ve been grumpy and uncommunicative. Family and friends have gone neglected. I’ve been tired, oh goodness have I been tired.
I know, inside the deepest of my heart, that it only takes little tiny steps. One healthy choice, one load of laundry, five minutes of exercise.
I’ve been actively trying to read more, to write more. In some little way it helps with everything else, to make time for doing something that I love to do. So I’ve been writing each day, in the little notebooks that I made myself. The more I read and the more I write, the more conducive to productivity each day seems.
This weekend we have had some beautiful mornings: cool Autumnal temperatures, sun shining through the curtains. Wearing warm woolen knee-socks ( and polka dot pajamas and a pink robe) on Saturday morning I sat reading on the couch, the cat purring beside me. I received a phone call to say that my calligraphy class on Sunday was cancelled: I decided to put on my 1920’s playlist, drink some coffee and write a little. Writing changed into hand lettering and eventually I found myself cross-legged on the living room floor surrounded by paper, line guides, books, and pens.
(I’m taking part in the Wholly Ordinary journaling email course)