Oh boy. Did today need a reset. It started out well enough. Sometimes, though, I don’t know that we realize that we’ve gotten way off track until it’s too late. That was the case for me, that is. The tipping point was also the moment that how the day unraveled became clear. “Ah,” I thought. “There it is.”
For a moment (well, longer than a moment, really), I wanted to write off this day as a lost cause. I told a friend that I just wanted to go watch 20 movies, and then erase Friday, January 18th, 2019 from memory. It’s an option.
But really, I only get one of these. Just one Friday, January 18th, 2019. Writing it off would be, in a way, writing myself off. I’m not willing to do that. Not anymore.
So I decided to do a reset. To reorient.
I can still feel some of the grime left from the discombobulation. It’s still swimming. Perhaps it could still be triggered. But otherwise, it’s good. It’s good to have this day. It’s good to be in it. To not simply write it off. I wonder how many days I would have gotten to embrace if I’d just allowed myself to restart.
It’s a practice that we can use every day. In fact, we’re given constant opportunities. Some might say endless.
I’ve been noticing myself returning to poetry lately. Both writing and reading. Interesting timing, given that Mary Oliver passed yesterday. Her words are one of the guides to help me reset. Some include Sometimes, Wild Geese…goodness…so many more.
I’ll leave you with the poem I turned to for this reset: Lost, by David Wagoner.
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.