Ever since I switched jobs, I’ve been scurrying hard. It’s fun, it’s challenging, and at the end of the day I’m wiped out. So no blogging. Very little writing. But I’m grateful for the new job and the new team and all the people I’m meeting and the things I’m learning.
I still get up at 5:00 AM to write my morning pages, and I’m thankful for that practice. But I’ve been feeling like I’m not writing much poetry. (Except for noodling around on that one poem that probably won’t amount to anything.) That’s an uncomfortable feeling.
In a recent post, Penelope Trunk talked about loving your process more than the results. At first, I thought that meant process as in all the hoops you have to jump through (think paperwork). Noooooooo. Reading on, I realized she meant process as in the doing. Love the doing more than the results. I realized that I’ve been writing. I just don’t have the results I want. I’m thankful for the doing.
I’m thankful for a quick Tuesday trip to Open Books and all the poetry I brought home. It’s been a wonderful week for reading: Natasha Trethewey, Cole Swenson, Sarah Gridley.
I’m thankful my son’s recent adventure went well. (I’m being cryptic because it’s his story.)
I’m thankful for getting to spend time with both my father and my mother yesterday. A fun family day.
I’m thankful for my husband forgiving my little frustrations and tantrums.
I’m thankful for the peonies. I see more of them at the grocery store than I see this bloom here in the back corner of my backyard.
I’m thankful for a few nights of great sleep.
I’m thankful for the quiet moments.
Reading: Weather Eye Open, by Sarah Gridley, and Flow (PS), by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi
Open the door. Open my heart.