Dear Reader,
Do I have readers? Maybe, maybe not. I haven't been here in ages, and I haven't been consistent, and I haven't known what to say, and, well, I've been a bit of a mess.
We're just shy of two years into coronavirus, the global pandemic that has upended all of our lives. It's been a horror show, and everything has changed. I have been to an indoor restaurant one time in that time. I haven't been on a plane, or sat in a theater. I'm careful about getting close to people. I'm in front of my computer far too often.
I'm dissatisfied, a bit unhappy, and more stuck than I've been since I was married. The days have been carrying on in a never changing way, and the monotony is... horrifying.
I've always been good at finding the silver lining, but lately I seem to have lost all sight with the spark within me. I haven't felt inspired, optimistic, or energetic. And you know what? I'm utterly sick of it. I'm somewhat famous for my resilience, my optimism, my ability to make lemonade (the metaphorical kind, although my fresh squeezed lemonade is pretty great, too).
And it's time to do better.
I've had a flash of brilliance, and I'm going to dive right in with it.
I'm going to create a year of nourishing joy.
My plan: to seek out something deeply joyful every single day for a year, and to notice the joyful things that drop into my lap. Nourish & Notice (sounds like the name of a great self help book, dontcha think?).
My friend Michele said something to me the other day that really stuck. She said that she'd heard about some CEO who asks interview candidates if they are lucky, and he only hires those who say "yes" to that question, because he believes that those are the people who find ways to seek luck, and in doing so, they create it. Well, I've stopped creating my own luck. I haven't been looking for four leaf clovers, and I haven't gone running to the shore when the orcas are there... and so I haven't been finding orcas or four leaf clovers.
It's worth pointing out that I'm a crazy-lucky person when it comes to both of these things. I've found hundreds of four leaf clovers over the years, sometimes many at one time. Once I was camping with another family and casually mentioned this skill as I plucked a four leaf clover out of the grass by my car, and my friend - in amazement - said he'd never seen a four leaf clover before. I gave it to him, and his kids clamoured for him to give it to them. "No problem!" I chimed in, "I'll just get one for each of you!" and within a few minutes, each of them had a lucky clover to press within the pages of their books. And the whales - I know people who have lived here their whole lives, never seen a wild orca... but I have. More times than I can count. It might have something to do with spending as much time as possible near the water, scanning the waves; it might have something to do with following the whales on Orca Network and jumping in my car to drive a couple of miles to wherever they might be at at that moment, standing on the shore with a pair of cheap binoculars in hand, grinning ear to ear in the wind and rain.
But I can't remember the last time I saw orcas, and I seem to have lost my knack for finding lucky clovers.
Or have I?
I've also lost some of my capacity for joy, and I'm positive that these are connected. It's time for me to create my own joy again, for that is its own kind of luck. It's time for me to put in the effort to find what awaits me by seeking it, nourishing it, noticing it.
So here I go.
My plan:
To do something every day whose sole purpose is to nourish joy. This must be something that I dedicate time to - even just a few minutes - and put in some effort - even minimal. This is me taking control of my narrative again (I AM a lucky person, I am optimistic and resilient, and I make great lemonade that sweetens my life as well as those around me). So, here's my plan: Do something just a little out of the ordinary every single day, taking time to feel it in my soul. The idea is that I have to do something to make it happen: I can't just delight in what falls into my lap, but I have to actively participate in it.
I have to make my own luck, and trust that the universe has my back when I do that.
The other part is that I want to notice. I want to create my own luck, and I want to carve time out of my life for the nourishment of joy, but I also want to just accept the lovely things that DO fall into my lap. So: my plan is to nourish and notice joy.
It's that easy, and it's that simple. And that hard. And I'm going to write about it here, and see how it changes me.
Today's nourish:
I'm sick with something like omicron but testing negative (no, that's not my joy!) so I'm home and not feeling well. But instead of just moping, I decided to:
- Color a page of a mandala coloring book while watching the old movie Chocolat (which is what inspired this - Vivienne grasps at joy).
- Start this blog, which feels creative and hopeful.
Today's notice:
- My loyal pup Chance has just been so gentle with me when I'm not feeling well. He's an exuberant beast, so full of bounces, but instead he has been calm and uncomplaining because he knows I haven't been well.
- I held a boundary that I needed to hold. That felt good, right.
- I really love my home. It's cozy and safe here, and there are lush houseplants and lots of good books and extra candles and a fridge full of food and a closet full of choices, and it's calm and peaceful.
- I've been playing vinyl records, and I just love the ritual of them. I have to get up to turn them over - one side is so few songs! - and it makes me stop and notice the music, re-engage with it rather than letting it take over as background noise. Today I listened to Harry Belafonte and Judy Collins with a little Taylor Swift mixed in.
- Carolyn gave me a Pride & Prejudice mug when I went back to teaching. Drinking tea out of it makes me so happy!
- My text chain with Mai and Jeannette is a source of connection.
-I may be feeling blah but I had the energy to write this post, and that's something. That is something indeed.
***
A list of things that bring me joy, to remind me when I feel stuck:
- Run to the whales (I live one mile from the Sound. This is not a complicated thing to do!)
- Meditate in the forest (there are many forested parks around here, and the mountains aren't too far away
- Swim in the sea (I did this on New Year's Day and it made me feel alive, strong, happy, awake)
- Write a poem
- Write a letter to a friend
- Host an event at my home (girls' weekend, dinner party, tea party, BBQ, snow day hot chocolate)
- Go away for the weekend
- Camping, hiking, backpacking
- Skinny dipping in alpine lakes (harder to do as our mountains are busy and I'm not an exhibitionist... but still possible in the deep woods).
- Meandering the Farmer's Market slowly, savoring (no rushing). Bonus for tipping a busker or chatting with a friend or spending ages picking the right bouquet of flowers.
- Museums and finding my favorite piece of art.
- Browsing in a bookstore just because.
- Petting random dogs.
- Snowshoeing.
- Kitchen dance party to a great song.
- Sitting on the porch with coffee as the sun comes up, wrapped in a blanket.
- Sitting on a log and watching the sunset. Bonus for hot thermos of tea.
- Yoga - specifically, the part at the end where I do savasana, or the part where I close my eyes in the middle and fully inhabit my body without worrying about my body.
- Walking up to the Junction to do errands.
- Taking time for a full pedicure session - foot soak, scrub, polish.
- Movie night with Tessa, in pajamas, with tea, popcorn with real butter, blankets fresh from the wash, laughing at the jokes.
- Getting dressed up to go out. Taking time to choose the right outfit, jewelry, shoes, coat, handbag.
- Going on a run, music thumping, and then coming in the front door gasping and getting a huge drink of water.
- Going downtown to wander around.
- Spending time planning a vacation.
- Making things. Jewelry, a scarf, a painting, a poem, a garden, bread, cake, cookies...
- Walking barefoot on the beach
- Searching for seashells on the beach
- Reading under a shady tree in the summer
- Picnics! Fancy ones, simple ones. Color coordinated with all the things in the perfect basket, or takeout on the car blanket.
- Candles, vinyl, tea, journal
- Walking in the rain with an umbrella, cozy and dry
- Watching Chance careen around the dog park
- Board games
- Coloring a page (this is a quieter joy, good for days when life has made me weary - so calming)
- Making and eating a perfect salad - a home made dressing, a crumble of cheese, some protein, maybe some avocado...
- Resting in a hammock with a book
- Finishing a house project and then sitting back to enjoy it (I painted the living room a year ago and I'm just so glad... and I painted the porch and deck rails this year and they still make me happy).
- Wrapping a gift in pretty paper and sending or bringing it to a friend
- wandering in an art gallery
- Art walks (there's one every month in West Seattle)
- happy hour with a friend
- stand up paddle boarding
- riding on a ferry
- seal spotting (and sea lions, porpoises, and all other wildlife)
- Visit with a friend on my porch
- picking fresh strawberries from my garden
- Bubble bath (candles, soft music, book, cold glass of water)
- Reading poetry (Mary Oliver and Amanda Gorman are favorites, tucked under the coffee table for all the time access)
- Carrying a book with me everywhere and pulling it out instead of my phone (The New Yorker works for this purpose too)
- Making a friend a birthday cake and delivering it
- Stargazing
- Sunbathing on a lounge in the yard (or by a pool or on a beach, of course)
- Campfires, Alki bonfires
- Holding hands
- Sculpture Park
- The deck at Marination
- a long walk with Chance and a good podcast
- Reading a good book
- Sunday night big cook for the week ahead (so satisfying!)
Okay there's more but my headache is back and, well, it can't be all joy, and that's okay. I'm pleased with this - it's progress! See you again tomorrow for Nourish & Notice Day 2.
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