my word of the year

Yesterday, all I wrote was the date and then something or someone called me away. I have been busy since the year’s beginning. I don’t want to list all the important tasks that came my way, but, but, but…

Yesterday was my birthday and, as a friend described it, my personal New Year.  I owe myself some recognition, some noting, and some planning for the new year.  That planning has, in some years in the past, been a list of resolutions. There was at least one companion who disapproved of the making of resolutions which seemed to them to be limiting in scope and bound to fail. (I’ve probably written about this somewhere but not going to check now.) I have found resolutions to be maps, suggestions, reminders, and the making of them to be a good time of reflection and quiet resolve.

At least one of the resolutions, learning to live with dualities, was on my resolution list for years, seemed to grow my soul into understanding and acceptance. I had no idea of how to do that growing but my insistence that it remain on the resolution list reminded me of its importance until one day, I had that a-ha moment of recognizing how and what I was doing.

My goodness, I fear that makes little sense, but I don’t want to stop and add examples.

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purpose

Duy-Huynh_Tide_Together_pp
Art by Duy Huynh

I open my eyes this morning knowing what I want to write about today.  Purpose. Considering that it has been weeks since I woke up wanted to write anything, I resolve to jump out of bed, leave everything, save the making of coffee, for later and start tapping at my keyboard.

However, before I sit and open the laptop, there is the cat to let in and feed, fans to move from bedrooms to kitchen and living room, the mouse trap in the kitchen cabinet to check (before Julia gets up) and the coffee to make with a few fleeting thoughts given to whether the papaya on the countertop is ripe.  Another few thoughts go to whether I text Cheshire before or after I write. Julia gets up and immediately turns on the tv and gets on her iPad.  She grabs a pop tart (unfrosted to ease my mother guilt) and says, good morning. I wrestle for more than a moment with the urge to engage with her and begin the enriching work of the day. Shouldn’t that be my sole purpose— To spend every waking moment purposely and actively engaged in Julia’s growth and maturity? Continue reading