Life is a succession of moments
To live each one is to succeed.
Seriously. I am finally starting to nail this living in the moment thing. With minor exceptions. For example, I am quite eager for tomorrow or the next day or the day after that to arrive, so that I can catch sight of the clematis that I planted two years ago when it blooms for the very first time ever. It looks absolutely pregnant with possibility, and I can't wait for it to give birth.
I feel the same way about my white lilac tree. Last year, I thought it had died and then somebody told me that it only blooms every second year. There is one wee little white petal that has burst through. You can see it if you look closely just to the right of the bottom centre of the photo. It excites me to no end. When in full bloom the entire tree looks like it is wrapped in spun white cotton candy.
Other than my impatience to see these two perennials finally reveal their true potential, I'm doing extraordinarily well taking things one moment, one hour, one day at a time. As my sister points out to me on a regular basis, I haven't blogged since last Wednesday. I've spent time on my other writing projects, but I haven't blogged because quite truthfully, I haven't had much to say. Things seem to be happening for me at a cellular level this week, not verbal or intellectual.
Today during my therapy session, I talked about how much time I have spent this past week or so in deep reflection. I've been reading a lot. Knitting. Thinking. Resting. In celebration of and gratitude for my clean time milestone, I went to a lot of recovery meetings. Four in three days. Crazy, really, for someone who usually attends just one meeting a week. It was fun, especially Saturday's meeting when a dear friend celebrated 10,000 days of recovery. That's over 27 years, by the way. She's simply marvelous.
After three months of being off of work, I believe that I may have turned a corner. I am beginning to feel...good. The sun is threatening to shine all week, and might even stick around for the long weekend. It makes such a difference, not just for us depressed people, I am sure. Today I went for a walk by the ocean with a girlfriend, and then sat on my deck in my backyard staring at my lilac tree and willing it to bloom. (Joking). I plan on doing a bit of gardening this week, and spending some more time at the beach. I am on a sea glass mission. I want to find some pale aqua/turquoise sea glass. I love sitting on the warm rocks, digging for smooth glass treasures. Two of my favourite beach days this year have been spent doing that exact thing. I think I will go for a third.
So, there you have it. A blog about the past week, and a bit about my hopes for the coming days. As for the present moment, it feels good to be blogging. I'm not trying to be brilliant or witty or anything else. I'm just sharing words, sifting through thoughts. Sipping on a Perrier over ice, nibbling on sweet cantaloupe. Soul Mate is sitting in his chair, also doing some writing. There is a hockey game on, not our team tonight (Canucks) but Boston and Tampa Bay. Boston is winning. I can hear at least one lawn mower going in the neighbourhood, it's only 8 o'clock. At the risk of sharing too much information, I really think it's time to take my bra off and hop into my pyjamas. I'll knit a few more rows, read the final few chapters of Brene Brown's book The Gifts of Imperfection, and then get another good night's sleep. Tomorrow holds a lot of promise. But today has been fabulous too.