“This was my ideal day. I wrote it down to see how I wish to live this year. Not red letter days when celebrations or vacations commence, but normal days, average days, days that make up my life. I wrote it down because I was looking for a word to guide my year.”
Daily Notes, From the Editor
I was here, at my current home, and it was a weekday. I woke with the light and felt at ease, peaceful, unhurried. There was a morning bath, and breakfast fixed while watching hummingbirds out my window. All of this before even touching the smartphone in the far corner where I banished it before going to bed.
I spent the morning-productivity hours writing, then shifted to business-related tasks and correspondence for Lucia. Lunch was at a nearby cafe with a member of my tribe, or a new creative acquaintance--delightful, nourishing, sparking ideas, and just long enough for us to connect, share, eat, and wink farewell.
The afternoon hours were spent moving my body and caring for my home. A one-hour workout with other strong women. The cleaning out of a drawer, a room, a corner, a pot in the yard.
Dinner, oh I love the idea of sharing a meal each night with my love but it is hard to see this happening right now...his unpredictable projects and night-owl tendencies don't always mesh with my need for a quiet dinner routine. So perhaps after a little yoga I prepared myself a healthy meal, then settled in to read, listen to a podcast, or paint. Meditation, another evening ritual, happened just before climbing into my soft, warm bed.
The entire day had a slow, rhythmic, mindful cadence to it. I mostly avoided Facebook, social media, and political news except for a few minutes to "like" and "love" baby photos, call a Member of Congress to voice my opinion that gutting the Affordable Care Act and Medicare are truly asinine moves clearly designed to make the well-off richer on the backs of the elderly and less fortunate, and of course to read the New York Times on my iPhone.
This was my ideal day. I wrote it down to see how I wish to live this year. Not red letter days when celebrations or vacations commence, but normal days, average days, days that make up my life. I wrote it down because I was looking for a word to guide my year.
My word didn't surface in the story. It came later, after exploring several more beautiful and thoughtful questions the author Susannah Conway asks in her Find Your Word offering. I wrote down words like "home" and "write" and "tribe" and "share" and "heart & soul" but none felt like the one.
"Grounded" floated from my body to my heart, through my pen and onto my journal page on the day following New Year's Day. It felt like an exhale, a homecoming, a blessing, and a place from which to begin.
It helped me remember that I do fit the definition of a highly-sensitive person, and I do resonate with Susan Cain's recent gorgeous revelation in her book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking, of what it means to be an introvert (which is not the same as being shy, no not at all).
My word for this year reminds me that self-care and a lifestyle that not only accommodates my needs, but also nurtures my talents and gifts so that I can offer them to the world, is crucial to me being able to thrive.
My word for the year is grounded.
What is yours?