live. love. let.

let's see.

lately, i've been feeling some sort of blah. like what's the point? of any of this.
life. words. imparting our own meaning. for what?

it seems like a pretty a big production for something that could end at any moment, without notice. we cannot truly prepare so we tell ourselves stories to try to understand, accept, know. as with anything, though, until you've lived through it, all the preparation in the world doesn't result in knowing.

i still mostly want to write when things are not so good. i make little mental notes about all the shiny, happy blog posts i could make but in the shiny, happy moments, the last thing i want to do is sit down at the computer and when i'm not feeling particularly awesome i don't feel like sharing the happy stuff that already happened. so i mostly write during the inbetween times.

i feel stuck in holding patterns that eventually lead to contemplating mortality without solid faith. the only thing i'm certain of is that i can't be certain. most of the time i am perfectly okay with that.

i've noticed that others' are experiencing something similar, too. there's something that feels off or disconnected. i don't know that they all end up dwelling on the unknowable but i think we all get there at some point and a choice can be made - we can choose to stay there, dwelling, or go on living anyway. i dwell a lot before i travel too far down the spiral of asking what the point is.

the other day i was sketching and trying out some new markers - the messages i was writing were centered around the idea of love, living, and letting go. i was pondering what a life with purpose might look like. i wrote down "live and let go" next to a really crappy looking flower. "let love grow" stood on it's own page with no sketch. i think i'd even written "the secret to life is..." on another page as if i would eventually be able to answer it. you know, the stuff of cliche.

the next day i noticed this, written in chalk in my backyard. my very first thought was, "um, who climbed over our wall to write this on my porch?" even though i knew the only logical answer was that my husband must have done it the night before while he was playing with the kids. of course, my very next thought was, "oh crap, i left my notebooks on the table...did he? no, he wouldn't, but seriously, didn't i just practically write that very same thing? did he flip through them?"

when he got home i told him i liked his messages on the porch (there was another with coldplay lyrics) and mentioned the sketches i'd done. on the same wavelength, he said. or you peeked in my journals, i thought but only in jest. i trust that he didn't and whatever, i seriously leave them strewn about all over the place, sometimes face-up. in addition to the 40-something blog posts in draft stage i've got about that many actual, physical journals in nearly every room of the house. it's out of control. i am currently writing stuff down on the nearest available piece of paper so my thoughts are  more scattered in the tangible world than the minutia in my brain.

so when i read this post by kelly barton, it really resonated with me. i am so undisciplined and all of my crazy journal keeping/note-taking/messy/free-flowing days are evidence. instead of berating myself for it or fighting against it i am coming to learn how to accept that some days will be better than others. kelly's words reinforced what i already knew (i am not alone) and challenged me to make a list of my own. truth be told, i make lists all of the time. reminders of what to do to, lists of wants, health goals, etc. some things move from list to list, notebook to notebook, year to year. some i never do. like meditate. who has time for that? i oftentimes make lists from the vantage point of the person i'm becoming or some ideal version of myself as wonder-woman, not the person i currently am. after kelly's post i decided i needed a list based on more immediate needs, the here + now.

everything is a step on this journey and righting ourselves along our paths, aligning ourselves with others along the way, it's all part and parcel. i still don't know what the point is but i do know that being present, here + now, is all we ever have.

with that in mind here's a list of things to improve the here + now, and i'm going to start by borrowing from kelly right off the bat!

1. drink more water. there's a lot of things my grandma has always told me. this is one of them. think it's time to get on it.

2. daily yoga. really. stretch, at least. this is another thing grandma always said and i've totally slacked.

3. get outside more. not just inbetween the house + car or store + car, either. this isn't even funny but i'm really so reclusive that somedays i don't step foot outside. there's no excuse for that.

4. organize the journals, the notebooks, the folders of loose paper.

5. keep writing. just not all over the place.

6. re-implement a waldorf-based rhythm in the home. be consistent. it will benefit everyone, not just the children.

7. slow down.

8. stop yelling.

9. breathe. auto-pilot is not as good as consciousness here.

10. live {authentically}. love {more}. let {go}. which may just be the point, afterall.