IT IS A GOOD DAY

It is a lovely morning in Florida. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the air is warm. I am so very grateful for the conditions that allow me to live here. This last week has been an interesting one, as it has held a lot of emotion for me with not a lot provoking that emotion, which I find pretty interesting.

I have come out the other side of it, it seems, no worse for the wear. There were some delightful highs and some darker lows. It caused me to wonder if my body isn't kind of stuck in the winter doldrums of Wisconsin even though I'm away from all of that cold and gray and snow, snow, snow. I suppose that a body doesn't necessarily adapt in one season.

Battling winter depression has been such a saga for me, when I lived in Wisconsin. Then I add to that conditioning the stress of relocation and rebuilding my life, yet again. And I can understand how this week came about.

The last two years have been a bit challenging... no, a lot challenging. The wonderful news is that there are so many people who have made it all so much more bearable and enjoyable, even with the challenges. That's really it then isn't it? That the people in our lives hug us and hold us up to the light even when we don't have the energy or inclination to do it for ourselves. 

I have a great Tribe... an amazing Tribe. All good, kind, generous souls who network with me regularly to bring out the best in me, the best in them, and the best in the world. I am so very fortunate.

Today holds tremendous potential for completion, and generous endings and brilliant beginnings. Right now is the quiet in the morning, when most are still sleeping. The birds are singing and the leaves on the trees are just coming out. It is springtime here. There's a red headed woodpecker creating a drum beat on the hollow branch outside my open door. Although it's still too cool for the lizards to be active, I anticipate the scurying of anoles and chameleons as the day warms up.

Hugs,
Betsy

Day 53

 

So, when it's really AWFUL outside and it can't decide whether it's going to snow, or rain, or sleet, or thunder and lighting; when the wind is blowing like there is noooo tomorrow and the sky is gray, I look to the Robin to remind me of what lies JUST around the corner.  This little bird KNOWS that it's just a matter of time.  He KNOWS that the worms are stirring, just under that last blanket of snow.  He insistently hops around on the dry brown grass that peeks through the melting mantle of white, just WAITING for that first stirring that he will feel with his feet.  What a skill set this little guy possesses.  He hops and then stands, hops and then stands, waiting, feeling, sensing the earthworm moving just below the surface.  He's always in the moment...hop... wait... feel... hop... wait... feel.  He's never impatient, and he's always aware, watching for cats, or kids, or dogs, or... hop... wait... feel.  A great lesson in being in the moment and in mindfulness.

Day 37

The bleak winter of our discontent is still going strong upon my return to Wisconsin.  IS THIS WINTER EVER GOING TO END!!!  It was hard for me not to turn around and go back to Florida.

Day 23

Sometimes, when it's 21 degrees outside and snowing like there's no tomorrow; when your day starts and ends with shoveling the never ending white mantel that is the stuff of winter wonderlands; when the wind is howling and winter's icy fingers seem to have a fast grip on the world; one finds it necessary to go to that lush place in one's mind that is forever green, and stunningly beautiful; that sings of promise and reflects the soul; that is a respite from winters desolate vastness.  Life will burst forth, eventually, from this frozen tundra, and once again the birds will sing their songs to the dawn, and the day will bloom eternal.