All best efforts


Today: just one damn thing after another.

This week: same.

My tried-and-true mantras of exercise, eat well, sleep well are failing me. I keep doing everything "right"--I floss! I spend time with friends! I snuggle my kids! I read and relax! I share the domestic workload!--yet my body conspires to remind me that it is human and vulnerable. I'm sick again, is what I'm trying to say. AppleApple was sick yesterday. And Albus is still on meds for strep. So, really, this has not been the healthiest of winters despite all best efforts.

All best efforts do not guarantee optimum results.

That's no lesson, just observation. I've cobbled together a total of 30 minutes at my desk, broken minutes, and I've done what I can, but it is time now to prep for the music lesson run. On a day this foreshortened, against my will, I'm finding no inner calm, only the rebellion of my expectations banging furiously on the implacable wall of reality. I wonder what it would take to gently pacify my expectations, and simply relax into what's happening, embrace the inevitable. I can't imagine it, but it must be possible. It might be the difference between storming through the day and riding out the day, surfing the day, floating on the day.

Hm. Those images took me to a beach in a tropical country. I like that thought. Can I float through a day in which I'm required to slog through snow and slush?

I'm out of time.