So….we’ve been living in a little family tent for the past few days, not really coming up for air, just kind of eating cookies and doing jigsaw puzzles and reading books and making homemade treasure hunts and it’s been amazing. It was gloomy outside today and I think we were all sort of glad because it meant we didn’t even have to pretend that we should consider leaving the house.
So I haven’t (showered) written or (showered) exercised in days. I’m drinking tons of tea and sleeping a LOT, so that’s good. And even more good, I’m absolutely luxuriating in the peace and love of my family. Usually by now I’d be anxious that I wasn’t gettin’ after it more, wasn’t on pace, was falling behind my own goals I’d set, was being slovenly…but since my grand goal is peace and self-love for this whole big year, I’m not losing this forest for the tiny trees. There’s progress in this stillness. The movement is mostly internal, mostly squishing more cozily, deeply into the couch, an arm around two of the humans I treasure most, some divine slippers on my feet, and (unwashed) pajamas on my bod, but it’s still movement.
I’m quietly enjoying the quiet. What a treat to get it, to enjoy it. Not to be afraid of it. I’m grateful for all of it.