Two mornings ago, the power surged when I was in the bathroom performing my morning routine, disrupting the on-off light schedule on the hydroponic garden on my kitchen countertop. Molly and I use that light to inform our rising every morning. She usually wakes first when the light goes on at 4:30 a.m., then lets me know it’s time to get going.
Yesterday morning, after a restless night in the middle of which I woke with a thundering headache that forced me from the comfort of my warm bed, to the bathroom for ibuprofen, I was surprised to see that it was nearly 5 a.m. when the two of us padded to the kitchen: me to brew a mug of peppermint tea; her for a piece of dehydrated banana.
This morning, it was still dark when Molly stirred, prompting me to throw my feet over the side of the bed to the floor (slowly. gently. because i’m old.), reach for my Kindle and glasses, and leave the bedroom and my still-sleeping husband. I realized, seeing the hydroponic garden was still dark, that the power surge must have messed up the timing. I will have to reset it at the time I want the light to come on, so what follows will be a series of fit-and-start mornings as Molly and I let our internal clocks guide our waking and return to our favoured 4:30 start.
Mug of honey and licorice tea by my side (a change from yesterday), and Yorkie who has fallen back to sleep on my lap, I read a beautifully written newsletter from Tonia Peckover in which she mentions her commitment to abstain from news consumption for 100 days. The thought appeals. We have a federal election coming up at the end of this month but, as seems to be my habit this year, instead of a goal I set a short-term intention and opt out until April 28 when we go to the polls to elect a new Canadian Prime Minister. I’ll reevaluate then.
“The mind is its own place and, in itself, can make a heaven of hell, and a hell of heaven.”
John Milton
This is another step toward nurturing my mental health. We, the tender-minded1 ones, must pay special attention to the ways current events, culture, and the overall environment affect us. Wisdom tells us to take gentle care of ourselves in times like these, all the more if we have additional stressors (and, who doesn’t?).
I’m experiencing a positive shift as a result of the spending less on social media. Less time is translating into less desire. Instead, I’m reading, writing, puttering at home, watching YouTube videos about gel printing and mixed media art, and just living my life.
Inspired by recent rumination on Teresa of Avila and Julian Norwich, I have been splashing paint around and creating art for my woman cave. I’m almost finished the last of a three-part series of paintings. A delivery of brand new art supplies arrived this week and I can’t wait to see what kind of creative mess I conjure next.
This non-baker made brownies yesterday and earned the coveted Gerry Hoye handshake (which, in my world, means more than the one given by Paul Hollywood to deserving bakers.) I realized it was the first time I’ve used the pretty new hand mixer I bought when our cookie-baking granddaughter was living with us in 2021. 😳
Every morning I move baby pelargonium plants (or geraniums, as we commonly refer to them) that I started from seed from our dining table to the back deck, and every evening I bring them back in. Downstairs, tiny zinnia cotyledons are poking up in peat pots on a heat mat. This is the first year I’ve attempted to grow flowers from seed. I’m mostly a vegetable girl but this year I need flowers.
Buds are barely starting to form on lilac bushes in our front yard. Gerry keeps watch and updates me daily. A few years ago I captured images from the barely-budding bush in our backyard British Columbia through to the end of flowering. Paying attention through the lens of my camera extended the season for me. I recommend it as a practice.
Here are a few images from that season.
There’s beauty even in the dying.
I started keeping a list of things I used to call “joy sparkers” that I’m now putting under the heading of “tastes of divine presence.” Here are a few:
- Two robins hopping along the roof of the house next door
- A chipmunk who peeked in the window when I was downstairs painting
- Molly, stretched out where the morning sun falls on the floor in the morning
I carve out time at various points during the day to pop into Substack and read a few posts. It’s a bit like the early days of blogging when I started in 2007, but different. More seasoned. Thoughtful. Real. Reflective of our current world—all that it is and all that we hope for it to be. (I am mindful that the “notes” feature is basically social media under a different umbrella, so paying attention to the amount of time I spend, but even there, it’s a different kind of social media—for now, at least.)
I already mentioned Tonia Peckover’s online space (she’s not on Substack, but you can subscribe to the beautifully written posts she shares on her blog.)
Here’s a handful of Substacks I’m enjoying that you might like too.
Living the Questions by Priscilla Harvey
Notes from the Path by Becca Rowan
Rhythms of Grace by Debby Hudson
Chasing the Blue Flower by Laura Boggess
Searching for the Words by Patricia Paddey
1 Tender-mindedness (as opposed to tough-mindedness) according to American philosopher William James, describes those of us who feel deeply, with an optimistic, often, spiritual perspective, valuing imagination, art and freedom of expression.
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