Here's what I know: my dear friend, "D", welcomed me in her home for something like over five hours today, I own three beautiful jewelry sets now, I've had over an hour of alone-time at home while Harold and Anne have run errands in Fort Collins, and all my outfits are set out for the entire week to come.
Who knows how Harold and Anne fare up in Fort Collins with grocery shopping, concert orchestra rehearsal, and dinner? Who knows what my friend "D's" evening bears out for her and her family? Who knows how my substitute will do tomorrow? I feel at peace, ready for the week, and relaxed.
And yet, I could worry: What if "D's" welcome was merely lip-service? What if Harold wishes I were with him? What if Anne needs more help with her instruments? What if my outfits don't work for the week?
Any one or all of those wonderings' answers hold potential negative answers, and with that I realize too, better that I not question and worry. If I overstayed my welcome, I certainly was made welcome. If Harold misses me, it'll be all the sweeter the next time we're together. If Anne needs support, she certainly knows where to find it. If the weather changes, my clothes and I'll adjust.
I count so many gifts and blessings every day, yet truest among them seems their recognition. I love the jewelry "D" helped me bead today, and more than that, I appreciate her letting me into her life, sharing time and family with me - the time, I know, she sacrificed to give both before and after our hours together. Harold's willingness to get the groceries seems impossible in some relationships, I know, and more than that his performing the task solo without the least question of me truly shows his level of commitment and ownership in our lives together. Anne practices faithfully every day, and asks for help as needed, and at 11 I recognize a tenacity, her own special determination that reassures me she'll get what she wants from her life. As for me, I will survive. Weather changes, economic changes, job changes, behavior changes, I've made it through all of those things, and will again if the need arises.
In the mean time, I appreciate the resources of love, time, and commitment those around me offer. I appreciate feeling capable of thriving in most any condition and circumstance. I appreciate the luxury of making memories. Thank you all.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
2-23-11 7:09 Book-Magic
Maybe five years ago or so, Harold picked up In a Sunburnned Country by Bill Bryson. After enough guffawing, I had to ask: "What's so funny?" The main character traipses through Australia, meeting all kinds of colorful characters and navigating a myriad of calamities. Bryson writes about them from an intensely humorous perspective. Harold agreed to read me a few passages. One thing led to another, and I started asking him to read it aloud to me every night before bed. It quickly became a nightly ritual, one that I think got us through an extended interior decorating phase.
We'd moved our bed into the laundry room so we could paint, patch, and refinish the walls in our bedroom. It was wedged in so that we could only lie down by crawling into bed from the foot. The light, a single exposed bulb, hung from a fixture attached to the middle of the ceiling. Mr. Bryson's levity transcended the whole situation, and we enjoyed many nights of laughter in those long, ultra-bright evenings.
These days he's reading Kitchen Confidential, by Anthony Bourdain. More guffaws. Another request. More evening reading. Honestly, aside from marital relations, it's the most fun I think either of us has had in bed. And we can talk about it with friends, with Anne, with anyone. What a lovely way to spend the evening together. It gives us a rich shared experience.
Anne reads herself to sleep most nights. We used to read to her faithfully. Then she learned to read, developed her own tastes in literature, and well, one thing led to another. We hardly read to her anymore. The other night I insisted. We picked up Ginger Pye, and it'd been so long that we had to recap previous readings by skimming through the first seven chapters. Right now the Pye family is frantically searching for their missing dog Ginger. The best part? Kissing Anne goodnight. Her eyelids droopy, slight smile across her face, and obviously warm and cozy disposition gave me that inexplicable maternal satisfaction.
Reading Rocks!
We'd moved our bed into the laundry room so we could paint, patch, and refinish the walls in our bedroom. It was wedged in so that we could only lie down by crawling into bed from the foot. The light, a single exposed bulb, hung from a fixture attached to the middle of the ceiling. Mr. Bryson's levity transcended the whole situation, and we enjoyed many nights of laughter in those long, ultra-bright evenings.
These days he's reading Kitchen Confidential, by Anthony Bourdain. More guffaws. Another request. More evening reading. Honestly, aside from marital relations, it's the most fun I think either of us has had in bed. And we can talk about it with friends, with Anne, with anyone. What a lovely way to spend the evening together. It gives us a rich shared experience.
Anne reads herself to sleep most nights. We used to read to her faithfully. Then she learned to read, developed her own tastes in literature, and well, one thing led to another. We hardly read to her anymore. The other night I insisted. We picked up Ginger Pye, and it'd been so long that we had to recap previous readings by skimming through the first seven chapters. Right now the Pye family is frantically searching for their missing dog Ginger. The best part? Kissing Anne goodnight. Her eyelids droopy, slight smile across her face, and obviously warm and cozy disposition gave me that inexplicable maternal satisfaction.
Reading Rocks!
Monday, February 21, 2011
2-21-11 2:41 pm Looking a Little Deeper into Time, Boundaries, Mind-Space, and...Dirty Laundry
Planning. Grading. Dishes. Laundry. Fun-time. Exercise. Cooking. Dishes. Yard work. Who has time for all that? And, I understand, some people find time for ... vacations. Imagine!
Actually, I'm getting somewhere. My planning, grading, and dishes are done. Yay! Fun-time waits; in an hour or so we'll have a family wii interval, maybe tennis today, and that'll fill some exercise needs as well. Calgon....take me away!!!! Hidden deep within the pile of dirty laundry lay my saving grace.
Harold and Anne wanted to go to the Rec. Center. I get it: the steam room, lazy river, two hot tubs, all sound delightful. And I still wanted to stay home. I pleaded laundry. (Harold hates to run appliances with no one in the house, and we both feel clean laundry is a basic need. Need I go into a hamper description? Suffice it to say: "Pew!") And so now, they're gone. The house is empty. I got time to myself. Laundry aside, and I'm ever-so grateful.
Now for the deeper look:
With one in place (time, boundaries, or thinking space), the others appear confluently. They each require intent and action. When I need more time, a prioritized list helps. When I need to get to work, boundaries are in order. Making quiet time by setting some aside planfully allows me mind-space to get some thinking accomplished. Thank you, dirty, smelly linens, for helping me acquire the quietude in which I now type.
So often I go after it all at once: boundaries, time, and thinking space. I start feeling frustrated because multi-tasking my intentions feels impossibly overwhelming, and I'm just looking to feel sane. Most of the time I go around simply hoping I won't bust!
Today's happy accident seems like the exception. How often does quiet time bestow itself on a full-time working mom and wife like me? (rarely!!!) and I got it by setting a boundary: I'm unwilling to start the week with dirty laundry. Ordinarily boundaries are a growth area for me. I can set them, and yet by the time I realize I needed to, it feels a little late, and the boundary-setting words sometimes come out a little too strongly. Today, everyone's needs helped me find my own space and quiet thinking time. The sward that usually cuts through all this business is the magical prioritized list. I need one today, and my boundaries have given me the thinking time to get started.
In addition to all the other to-do's, also on my mind are: Putting together three classes for our district this summer, actually make it four (a tech. class, a classroom management class, an assessment literacy class, and an independent study/coaching class). Also, I'd like to begin writing some articles for publication in parenting and teaching periodicals, and exploring some teaching abroad possibilities (if any exist) for over the summer. Oh yeah! Then there's the summer classes for our elementary students I'd like to offer: "Global Glogging" The tag might read: Get your galoshes, gear up the grey matter, and do some globe-trotting glogger-style! OK, it needs work, but clearly, there's a lot, too much, going on upstairs in my own grey matter!
How will I ever find the time? I gotta stop typing and make a list. Then maybe the accumulation of resources will reveal itself, and I'll have more time to appreciate it. It's definitely time to start.
Actually, I'm getting somewhere. My planning, grading, and dishes are done. Yay! Fun-time waits; in an hour or so we'll have a family wii interval, maybe tennis today, and that'll fill some exercise needs as well. Calgon....take me away!!!! Hidden deep within the pile of dirty laundry lay my saving grace.
Harold and Anne wanted to go to the Rec. Center. I get it: the steam room, lazy river, two hot tubs, all sound delightful. And I still wanted to stay home. I pleaded laundry. (Harold hates to run appliances with no one in the house, and we both feel clean laundry is a basic need. Need I go into a hamper description? Suffice it to say: "Pew!") And so now, they're gone. The house is empty. I got time to myself. Laundry aside, and I'm ever-so grateful.
Now for the deeper look:
With one in place (time, boundaries, or thinking space), the others appear confluently. They each require intent and action. When I need more time, a prioritized list helps. When I need to get to work, boundaries are in order. Making quiet time by setting some aside planfully allows me mind-space to get some thinking accomplished. Thank you, dirty, smelly linens, for helping me acquire the quietude in which I now type.
So often I go after it all at once: boundaries, time, and thinking space. I start feeling frustrated because multi-tasking my intentions feels impossibly overwhelming, and I'm just looking to feel sane. Most of the time I go around simply hoping I won't bust!
Today's happy accident seems like the exception. How often does quiet time bestow itself on a full-time working mom and wife like me? (rarely!!!) and I got it by setting a boundary: I'm unwilling to start the week with dirty laundry. Ordinarily boundaries are a growth area for me. I can set them, and yet by the time I realize I needed to, it feels a little late, and the boundary-setting words sometimes come out a little too strongly. Today, everyone's needs helped me find my own space and quiet thinking time. The sward that usually cuts through all this business is the magical prioritized list. I need one today, and my boundaries have given me the thinking time to get started.
In addition to all the other to-do's, also on my mind are: Putting together three classes for our district this summer, actually make it four (a tech. class, a classroom management class, an assessment literacy class, and an independent study/coaching class). Also, I'd like to begin writing some articles for publication in parenting and teaching periodicals, and exploring some teaching abroad possibilities (if any exist) for over the summer. Oh yeah! Then there's the summer classes for our elementary students I'd like to offer: "Global Glogging" The tag might read: Get your galoshes, gear up the grey matter, and do some globe-trotting glogger-style! OK, it needs work, but clearly, there's a lot, too much, going on upstairs in my own grey matter!
How will I ever find the time? I gotta stop typing and make a list. Then maybe the accumulation of resources will reveal itself, and I'll have more time to appreciate it. It's definitely time to start.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
2-19-11 8:42 pm The Bike
We looked at a new bike for me today. What a thrill! It's a 2010 Raleigh Venture, a cruising bike. I've wanted to bike to school rather than walk on days when time matters, with out my back hurting from bending over uncomfortably on my old mountain bike.
I'd really like to know, after the mountain bike craze, who all has those uncomfortable things stuffed away somewhere in storage? Maybe other people only buy comfortable equipment. I, however, fell for the craze, regardless of how torturous that thing felt - even when I bought it. My back, the seat, my shoulders, it's made for riding down a mountain side, and I have yet to, and may never, engage in that activity unless I somehow find myself at the top of a mountain, coincidentally with a bike, and a bear starts chasing after me. So, there it hangs in my garage, my Balance Mountain bike with G.R.I.D. (gravity reduction integrated design) engineering, just waiting for some crazed maniac to take it on the kind of spin for which it was designed.
The Balance has been in our painful possession for over a decade. It's time for something new, and this little silver-painted gem, with it's wide seat and upright handle bars fills the bill nicely, and for a nice price too. What about that spending money? If it fills the bill for a car, well, it's quite a deal, and it's good for the environment.
Still, money spend is money out of our wallets and into someone else's. So, giving Harold a hair cut today felt particularly sweet. We began as newly weds, trying to save money. We just kept on doing it. Calculating the amount of money we've saved because I've cut his hair for pretty much our entire marriage, I'm sure we've saved enough to purchase new bikes like the Raleigh, several times over. Let's see: 16 years of marriage multiplied by about 8 cuts per year puts us at about 128 total cuts. If the average cut costs (ed) about $20.00, we've saved about $2,560, if my calculations added up correctly. I think I'm good to buy the bike, and still consider it resource gathering rather than squandering. Maybe we should get one for him too...
I'd really like to know, after the mountain bike craze, who all has those uncomfortable things stuffed away somewhere in storage? Maybe other people only buy comfortable equipment. I, however, fell for the craze, regardless of how torturous that thing felt - even when I bought it. My back, the seat, my shoulders, it's made for riding down a mountain side, and I have yet to, and may never, engage in that activity unless I somehow find myself at the top of a mountain, coincidentally with a bike, and a bear starts chasing after me. So, there it hangs in my garage, my Balance Mountain bike with G.R.I.D. (gravity reduction integrated design) engineering, just waiting for some crazed maniac to take it on the kind of spin for which it was designed.
The Balance has been in our painful possession for over a decade. It's time for something new, and this little silver-painted gem, with it's wide seat and upright handle bars fills the bill nicely, and for a nice price too. What about that spending money? If it fills the bill for a car, well, it's quite a deal, and it's good for the environment.
Still, money spend is money out of our wallets and into someone else's. So, giving Harold a hair cut today felt particularly sweet. We began as newly weds, trying to save money. We just kept on doing it. Calculating the amount of money we've saved because I've cut his hair for pretty much our entire marriage, I'm sure we've saved enough to purchase new bikes like the Raleigh, several times over. Let's see: 16 years of marriage multiplied by about 8 cuts per year puts us at about 128 total cuts. If the average cut costs (ed) about $20.00, we've saved about $2,560, if my calculations added up correctly. I think I'm good to buy the bike, and still consider it resource gathering rather than squandering. Maybe we should get one for him too...
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
2-16-11 9:40 pm Keeping it All Together
Conferences for teachers compare to tax time for accountants. We halt our exercise programs, compromise our diets, put everything aside to make room for a lot of extra hours at work. In the last week I've lost a bag full of cameras and voice recorders, a flip recorder, and today, the piece de resistance, my purse!
My breath left my chest when I realized its absence this evening. We searched the house, the cars, nothing. So at 8:30 I drove back through town, stopping at the few places I'd run errands over the last few days. Called the police to report it missing, and eventually ended up back at school. At the door our night custodian greeted me sternly: "NOW what are you doing back here!?" I stayed at school until midnight one day last week, and she gave me the dickens for staying so late.
Yet when I told her my tale, which she took in soundbites between comments to the officer on the other end of my call, she launched into a mission. And within 30 seconds, somehow magically located my purse. What a relief.
And it shows more than the work of an employee ready to go home. She willingly took my hug as thanks (me, still on the phone with mr. police officer, who treated me so kindly, how can I ever thank him for his compassion? He kept reassuring me, empathizing that he'd experienced this very thing and knew just how awful it felt.)
I always try to appreciate others, and show it through greetings, questions, and listening. Of course I think about smiling, using "and" instead of "but", and look on the bright side of all problems. Tonight my friends and community surrounded me with their love, compassion, and support. These things money cannot buy, and poverty cannot remove. I feel more and more convinced of my power to create a happy life for myself, entirely outside of my paycheck. That feels powerful.
My breath left my chest when I realized its absence this evening. We searched the house, the cars, nothing. So at 8:30 I drove back through town, stopping at the few places I'd run errands over the last few days. Called the police to report it missing, and eventually ended up back at school. At the door our night custodian greeted me sternly: "NOW what are you doing back here!?" I stayed at school until midnight one day last week, and she gave me the dickens for staying so late.
Yet when I told her my tale, which she took in soundbites between comments to the officer on the other end of my call, she launched into a mission. And within 30 seconds, somehow magically located my purse. What a relief.
And it shows more than the work of an employee ready to go home. She willingly took my hug as thanks (me, still on the phone with mr. police officer, who treated me so kindly, how can I ever thank him for his compassion? He kept reassuring me, empathizing that he'd experienced this very thing and knew just how awful it felt.)
I always try to appreciate others, and show it through greetings, questions, and listening. Of course I think about smiling, using "and" instead of "but", and look on the bright side of all problems. Tonight my friends and community surrounded me with their love, compassion, and support. These things money cannot buy, and poverty cannot remove. I feel more and more convinced of my power to create a happy life for myself, entirely outside of my paycheck. That feels powerful.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
2-13-11 9:19 pm Community and Comments!
Cars! Every Sunday morning as we trek off to church, we navigate a larger-than-originally-planned-for number of parked cars on our street. Old-town Loveland Colorado, at least in our residential areas, boasts fairly wide streets. And, when cars park right up to the block corners, or right up to the driveway entrance, Harold and I sometimes find ourselves lamenting the crowds.
Anne piped up this morning: "Why don't they put in a parking lot? That would solve the problem!" And so we reflected on the implications of that solution. A house sold, razed, and then a lot put in. So much for the residential feel of our area.
That idea nixed, I pondered: What good comes from this, a crowded church in a residential place? Harold commented that neighborhood churches were meant to serve a pedestrian community. And there-in lies at least part of my inspiration for "carless transportation", which, given the weather and our schedule, seems very possible this week - yay! Pedestrian communities serve our health, our environment, and crowd control.
So. The good that comes from throngs of faithful church-goers to our little neighborhood? More customers at our coffee shops maybe? More life and activity around here? I wish them well, and look forward to their bell ringing in the 10 o'clock hour each Sunday. And they seem to care well for their property. In the end. I think we benefit. In the mean time, we need to breathe, and go off to our own church each week. They boast a parking lot and a huge field on which to rest our tired eyes.
And comments! I confess, until tonight reader comments went unchecked, for lack of understanding on my part. This evening I located a link showing all comments. What a find! The kind words from so many friends, well, what to say? I definitely felt loved reading them. This opportunity to freely share feels like the ultimate free speech. It brings us all closer together, and from that we all benefit. Thank you all for commenting. I promise to respond!
Anne piped up this morning: "Why don't they put in a parking lot? That would solve the problem!" And so we reflected on the implications of that solution. A house sold, razed, and then a lot put in. So much for the residential feel of our area.
That idea nixed, I pondered: What good comes from this, a crowded church in a residential place? Harold commented that neighborhood churches were meant to serve a pedestrian community. And there-in lies at least part of my inspiration for "carless transportation", which, given the weather and our schedule, seems very possible this week - yay! Pedestrian communities serve our health, our environment, and crowd control.
So. The good that comes from throngs of faithful church-goers to our little neighborhood? More customers at our coffee shops maybe? More life and activity around here? I wish them well, and look forward to their bell ringing in the 10 o'clock hour each Sunday. And they seem to care well for their property. In the end. I think we benefit. In the mean time, we need to breathe, and go off to our own church each week. They boast a parking lot and a huge field on which to rest our tired eyes.
And comments! I confess, until tonight reader comments went unchecked, for lack of understanding on my part. This evening I located a link showing all comments. What a find! The kind words from so many friends, well, what to say? I definitely felt loved reading them. This opportunity to freely share feels like the ultimate free speech. It brings us all closer together, and from that we all benefit. Thank you all for commenting. I promise to respond!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
2-10-11 8:09 pm Validation
I think validation seems accumulable, if that made-up word makes sense.
We found a new t.v. series we love, "The Big Bang Theory". Who knows where or when it originally aired. Netflix led us to this recent find.
The cast: geeky physicists rent an apartment across the hall from a socially "normal" girl. Leonard takes the role of almost-socially normal, incredibly smart scientist. His friend Raj plays the Indian scientist, who seems entirely unable to speak to women. Howard is a sex-obsessed scientist who overcompensates for is inexperience by smothering women. Penny, the young lady across the hall, leads a "normal", happy life, sans Phd. Sheldon, he plays my favorite character of all.
Sheldon's brilliance makes him the smartest scientist of the bunch. His social ineptitude also surpasses that of his friends. Aside from his lack of social exposure which handicaps his judgement on a regular basis, he suffers from thinking of just about everything, from all perspectives, at every turn. Needless to say, each word, action, and thought comes fraught with bombardment all this thinking brings. And he shamelessly showers this wide thinking on his friends. They love him, in spite of the rain.
My smart-factor seems relatively normal. It's the barrage of multiple perspectives and perpetual thinking that connects me to the character of Sheldon. And therein lies my validation. Someone out there understands, well enough to write about it, well enough to act it out, what too much thinking feels and looks like. And I do it all the time. When we invite someone to dinner, or several someones, I run through the potential experiences of each person scheduled to come to the table, based on as wide a variety of possible outcomes as I feel able, from the time we know about the event, until days after it. Sounds obsessive. Maybe obsessive. Regardless, clearly I am not alone. Thank you "Big Bang".
I feel validated, however artificially; it makes me feel better. My family loves me, and tolerates my, for a better word, worrying. I know how to stop obsessing when necessary. And, still it feels good to see a part of me reflected in a work of art, created by total strangers. It gives me confidence to proceed, just the way I came, a wide thinker.
We found a new t.v. series we love, "The Big Bang Theory". Who knows where or when it originally aired. Netflix led us to this recent find.
The cast: geeky physicists rent an apartment across the hall from a socially "normal" girl. Leonard takes the role of almost-socially normal, incredibly smart scientist. His friend Raj plays the Indian scientist, who seems entirely unable to speak to women. Howard is a sex-obsessed scientist who overcompensates for is inexperience by smothering women. Penny, the young lady across the hall, leads a "normal", happy life, sans Phd. Sheldon, he plays my favorite character of all.
Sheldon's brilliance makes him the smartest scientist of the bunch. His social ineptitude also surpasses that of his friends. Aside from his lack of social exposure which handicaps his judgement on a regular basis, he suffers from thinking of just about everything, from all perspectives, at every turn. Needless to say, each word, action, and thought comes fraught with bombardment all this thinking brings. And he shamelessly showers this wide thinking on his friends. They love him, in spite of the rain.
My smart-factor seems relatively normal. It's the barrage of multiple perspectives and perpetual thinking that connects me to the character of Sheldon. And therein lies my validation. Someone out there understands, well enough to write about it, well enough to act it out, what too much thinking feels and looks like. And I do it all the time. When we invite someone to dinner, or several someones, I run through the potential experiences of each person scheduled to come to the table, based on as wide a variety of possible outcomes as I feel able, from the time we know about the event, until days after it. Sounds obsessive. Maybe obsessive. Regardless, clearly I am not alone. Thank you "Big Bang".
I feel validated, however artificially; it makes me feel better. My family loves me, and tolerates my, for a better word, worrying. I know how to stop obsessing when necessary. And, still it feels good to see a part of me reflected in a work of art, created by total strangers. It gives me confidence to proceed, just the way I came, a wide thinker.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
2-9-11 5:23 pm Blog: The Internet's Front Porch
We accumulate shared thinking when we open up to those around us. It seems so obvious, and then what happens? We keep them to ourselves.
Another follower appeared on my "Followers" list today, making me ecstatic all over again. That sounds ... somehow conceited. Yet rather than that list representing some sort of "flock" for me, it simply represents a wider circle of ... openness. When people read blogs in general I feel a sense of renewed faith.
Faith. The faith feels connected to community. How disconnected we seem, sucked into our 21st century world-wide-web culture. After almost ten years at this house, we know a grand total of three of our neighbors. And those three we hardly see. Somehow in the quagmire of shifting social standards, readers logging on and checking in with others seems almost warm and fuzzy, in a...digital sort of way.
"Digital" sounds cold. Really, what's more personal than our inner thoughts and opinions? Neighbors once sat on front porches trading thoughts and opinions. Maybe blogs are the internet's version of that front porch, except you can live outside the neighborhood and still listen in ... and even contribute to the conversation.
Another follower appeared on my "Followers" list today, making me ecstatic all over again. That sounds ... somehow conceited. Yet rather than that list representing some sort of "flock" for me, it simply represents a wider circle of ... openness. When people read blogs in general I feel a sense of renewed faith.
Faith. The faith feels connected to community. How disconnected we seem, sucked into our 21st century world-wide-web culture. After almost ten years at this house, we know a grand total of three of our neighbors. And those three we hardly see. Somehow in the quagmire of shifting social standards, readers logging on and checking in with others seems almost warm and fuzzy, in a...digital sort of way.
"Digital" sounds cold. Really, what's more personal than our inner thoughts and opinions? Neighbors once sat on front porches trading thoughts and opinions. Maybe blogs are the internet's version of that front porch, except you can live outside the neighborhood and still listen in ... and even contribute to the conversation.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Fortune, and Tomorrow
Blessings. Luck. Fortune. Whatever you call things for which to feel greatful, taking the time to recognize them makes us who we are on a scale reaching from greatful and inspiring to resentful and ... conspiring?
Things for which I feel grateful today:
Anne's smile, getting to work and home safely, having plenty of food to eat, clean water to drink, a warm house in which to sleep, a husband with my best interests at heart, the patience of others, the opportunity to help others, opportunities to build trust. Keeping those points of gratitude in mind inspires me to go back tomorrow, and do it all over again. I hope I make a positive difference in someone's life.
Writing a list of gripes only makes me vulnerable to self-perpetuating negative energy. And the result leaves me in exactly the same place I started: resentful. The question on my mind becomes "How can I avoid those problems tomorrow?" And therein lies a negative seed planted, the assumption that tomorrow will present the same challenges of today, or maybe worse ones.
Ah! I discovered the thing for which I feel absolutely most grateful: the possibility of tomorrow.
Things for which I feel grateful today:
Anne's smile, getting to work and home safely, having plenty of food to eat, clean water to drink, a warm house in which to sleep, a husband with my best interests at heart, the patience of others, the opportunity to help others, opportunities to build trust. Keeping those points of gratitude in mind inspires me to go back tomorrow, and do it all over again. I hope I make a positive difference in someone's life.
Writing a list of gripes only makes me vulnerable to self-perpetuating negative energy. And the result leaves me in exactly the same place I started: resentful. The question on my mind becomes "How can I avoid those problems tomorrow?" And therein lies a negative seed planted, the assumption that tomorrow will present the same challenges of today, or maybe worse ones.
Ah! I discovered the thing for which I feel absolutely most grateful: the possibility of tomorrow.
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