Winter's Solstice has passed, and we are in those weeks where the days are technically getting longer, but only by a few seconds each day. It's almost as if the world pauses for a moment to catch its breath before continuing the cycle of life.
The sun rises late, and sets early; hereabouts the skies are often clouded. I find it hard to get myself moving many mornings. (Leave my warm and cozy bed for the cold darkness, why??) This morning I slept in a bit, figuring it would be another snuggle day - I can't ignore the gray, but I can find the silver linings. I am grateful for good books and my soft fuzzy white blanket. For candlelight and hot tea. For a cozy home and reliable furnace.
I think Someone thought I needed a reminder that this, too, shall pass. When I finally got out of bed and lifted the shade, I was greeted with a glorious sunrise. The color lasted just a few minutes before fading to familiar gray, but the promise has stuck with me. Beauty Is.
One of the things I've found vexing about retirement is how the days all blur together. Even with exercise to bring structure to my days, I still find myself wondering how I spent my time last week as it flew by.
As I was browsing the news the other day, I found an article from someone with the same issue. As a way to combat it, she pauses for just a minute each night to write down one thing that happened that day. Hmm. I used to journal a lot more than I do now - perhaps this is a key. Perhaps if I can start a discipline of sitting for just a few minutes before I turn out the lights and writing down a few words, it will help.
I'm not usually one for New Year's resolutions, but I'm going to give this one a try. Even if (when) I don't do it every night, if I do it more nights than I don't, perhaps it will give me an anchor. It's worth a shot.
Happy New Year!
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