In an effort to get a handle on my Instagram addiction, I thought I’d lay off posting for a while.  I’m still chronicling my days.  I’m still taking photos and journaling.  I’m just delaying that jolt of instant gratification by resisting the urge to post.  

Besides, we’re living through disturbing times. I find it increasingly hard to show up with a pretty picture of my cup of coffee or snow covered moss or songbird or whatnot with words which convey the range and depth of this experience that we are all going through.  

All in all, I worked hard to take care of myself this week.  I walked everyday. I blended herbs from my summer’s garden and made nourishing teas to sip. I went to bed early. I left my phone on the kitchen counter at night and didn’t reach for it until the next day. I meditated and journaled and scheduled a session with my therapist.  I listened to plenty of podcasts while sewing or tending our home -- some news-centered podcasts, but also soul nourishing ones like Poetry Unbound, On Being, and Tara Brach.  I also enjoyed a new to me podcast called The Anxious Achiever. It’s a great one if you or your people are divergent learners. 

Let's get back to home tending, though, shall we? Tending the home brings me great peace. It's hands-down, one of the most reliable outlets I have to recenter myself when I'm feeling anxious. I’m forever reminded of the Buddhist parable about washing bowls.  Oftentimes, the most meaningful thing we can do is the next right thing. Like washing the dishes or sweeping up the wood debris around a winter’s woodstove or making the bed each morning or wiping the window sills free of dust and spiderwebs. These little chores center me. These little chores are my expression of gratitude that I have for my home, my family - my immediate world.  I don't keep an immaculate home, but I do keep a loved home. 

And still, despite my awareness and efforts and blessings, I am troubled. I am struggling. I’m grateful and I’m heavy with confusion and despair. I’m doing the best I can to take care of myself. I’m recognizing the privilege of that ability. I’m seeing others who have less means and who are less fortunate. I’m trying to love more and feel less guilt. I want to be kind to myself and to others. And yet, I’m having a very hard time feeling kindness towards anyone who has silently or not so silently supported the hate that has been given permission to rage like wildfire through our country. It’s absolutely not okay.