Finally! Two days late, I put my scientific giveaway system, er, person to work. Congrats to Hillary of Infinite Learners! Email me with your info and I'll send you the goods girl!
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Sometimes there is so much bad news, so much heartache and heartbreak present or on the horizon, that it feels like everyone is just walking around in a fog. A fog that also feels like the elementary school field day event I hated most; moving down a path with an egg on a spoon. I always dropped the egg. Most of the time, it broke.
I've been noticing a lot of this hazy sadness in our community as of late. Some of it from tragedies, some from our own humanness-- the divorces, divergent kids, financial struggles-- all seemingly great in number right now. There is a part of me that gets wrapped up in these stories. My head and heart have a hard time with boundaries, always trying to figure the why behind people's actions, always trying to soak up pain that isn't mine. And in doing so, it is easy to become so focused on what's happening outside my home, that I'm far from balanced inside my daily life.
Instead of talking (and talking, and talking) with friends or family about the melancholy blanket is covering our small town, I'm going to try something different. In part inspired by Exhale, Return to Center's Erin and her one small change for January, in part inspired by Hillary at Infinite Learner's thoughts on the personal being global, and as part of my focus this month on balance, I'm going to take the restless energy I feel and put it, physically, to work. And I'm starting here:
This is my basement. It's where I'm supposed to escape to sew or craft or read or write or do anything that fills me up without leaving my house. I'm not sure about you, but these pictures don't exactly scream "calming."
Part of having balance, even for a person who often chooses to do anything other than organize or deep clean, includes a bit of order. Obviously,the amount of order differs from person to person. I have friends who cannot fall asleep until every toy, book, and pair of socks in the house is tucked away in a designated spot (often by color, theme, etc.). Other friends live on the brink of a clean laundry landslide, or let their little people's stuff collect in corners and stairwells until small mountains emerge (and yet, they know where everything is). I'm not sure where I fall on the spectrum. I don't like to organize. I don't like to tackle piles of stuff. Yet, I feel anxious when things are far from in order, and I feel deep senses of satisfaction when my house is decluttered and asthetically pleasing. Perhaps balance is always like that: an undefined thread that rests between the spaces of where we are in this moment.
So my goal for the rest of this week is to clean this space. To take the time to put all this glorious (gifted!), interesting fabric in color schemes and well folded rows. To clean off some bookshelf space (so that I don't have to buy shelving) and create an area for sewing projects. There is not a lot to say when sadness settles in, and I'm starting to understand this is rooted in spiritual reasons. Silence helps us hear the universe a little bit better. It helps us tap into a balance we all need. I'm not yet at a place where I can sit in meditation when my body feels anxious and tired and uneasy all at once. Instead of fighting that, or berating myself for not being there yet, I think I'll just fold fabric.
Because sometimes, that's enough.
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Thanks for the deep breaths and love you sent into the world yesterday. I took a few quiet moments to watch the sun set over the lake, and I do believe the universe was glowing in response. I believe in the power of collective prayer and thought, and I'm sure those families needing it most felt wrapped in your lights.
We're getting ready to draw the winner of last week's giveaway. It will be announced at the bottom of this post within the hour.
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