From Feb 17, 2019:
Life is good. I have a roof and good food, tunes. Work that matters. I have a plan for 2019 and people in my corner to support me in those endeavours. I feel well.
Today is Sunday. I’ve managed to sleep until 845am, I watched several episodes of The Honourable Woman, made porridge for brunch and did a few minutes of meditation, which in my case is just rolling out the yoga mat, lying on the floor and remembering to breathe while the sun shines through my front window. Now I’m writing this post at home with a mug of hot chocolate; I am 100% comfy cozy.
I’m happy to get to know my instruments again. I love the feeling of surrounding and being surrounded by sound as an immersive experience that the cello provides like nothing else. I’ve retreated from the world by choice and convenience and as a confluence of events that these past weeks have brought to a head today.
Some people might say that the snow makes one feel isolated, apart from others or is an unwelcome surprise. But I’ve found it to be the opposite: Everyone seems more alert to the activities and struggles of others, necessarily slower and more appreciative of the little things. To greet your neighbours, to thank them for their snow-clearing efforts, to build snowmen and stop mid-commute to catch flakes on your tongue or grudgingly admit that lifting your eyes from your feet seeking purchase within the slush and crusts wreaking havoc on everything at ground level, that the trees reaching upward really are beautiful and the air is stark and clear.
Tomorrow I have to go get groceries- maybe travel-ability will have been improved by then? And continue the success of keeping myself entertained and engaged, without going off track and worrying about half a trillion bundles of sense and non-sense.