Little Things

Listening to the new Indigo Girls album.

Reading After the Ecstasy, the Laundry, by Jack Kornfield, and a manuscript by someone in my writing class.  Both, wonderful.

Noticing how entirely Grace and Whit have internalized our Notice Things Walks.  They notice things everywhere now, with new patience and quiet alacrity.  The blue jay out the kitchen window, the few red roses around the corner that survived the frost, a new smell (“it’s crispy!” exclaimed Whit) in the air in the morning.

Buying Christmas presents for my godchildren and nieces and nephews.  We have very simple, gift-light Christmases in my family, but I like to put a lot of thought into the gifts we give to the very special children in our lives.

Struggling to trust that the pain in my body will ebb.  In the very struggle, I fear, are the seeds of my failure.  Increasingly I suspect that trying hard is not only not the way to trust, but something that may actually keep it at bay.

Playing games before bed with the children instead of their watching TV.  Boggle, Guess Who, Connect Four, Uno.

Photographing morning sunlight on ever barer tree branches, trying to capture its golden, animate quality, and failing every time.  This light, like rain falling, seems to be one of those essential metaphors of nature that resists capture in literal ways.  Only the poet can really describe it.

Eating a lot of sweet potatoes, spinach, miso soup, kale chips, peanut butter, and homemade applesauce.

Waking up early and running in the night-dark morning, watching the sky crack open and begin to bleed eggshell colored light just as I return home.

Wearing a new pair of brown pajamas from eberjey that are so soft I never want to take them off.

Leaning towards home, towards quiet, towards softness, towards my children and a handful of the dearest and gentlest people I know.  And away from everything and everyone else.

Asking the universe, or my personal image of God, to reassure me that everything is going to be okay.

What little things are you doing these days?

Inspired by Ali Edwards’ lovely post

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  1. Posted November 3, 2011 at 4:48 am | Permalink

    So lovely my friend. I feel that same tug inward and luckily, the older I get, the easier it is to heed the needs of my soul.xo

  2. Posted November 3, 2011 at 6:26 am | Permalink

    Beautifully put, Lindsey, and I’m on a pretty similar track, minus the running (sub: walking and yoga) and peanut butter (I just discovered pecan butter and almond is my fallback.).

    It certainly is that waning time of year, isn’t it, when all we want is Home.

    XOXO and thanks to you…

  3. Hilary Levey Friedman
    Posted November 3, 2011 at 8:25 am | Permalink

    Have also been listening to new Indigo Girls! Birthday Wish is by far my fave (and thought about emailing you about it after reading your birthday note for Grace). What is your favorite?

  4. Posted November 3, 2011 at 9:03 am | Permalink

    A calm and restful post. Lovely!

    These days we are spending our time in quietness, trying to recover from a very exhausting couple of weeks surrounding my grandmother’s passing and funeral. Baking comforting foods, stirring soups, reading simple stories, cuddling in the recliner and rocking chair with blankets in the morning. A nice oasis of peace, today and yesterday, and hopefully for the next several days, too.

  5. Posted November 3, 2011 at 9:28 am | Permalink

    I love this! Your words make me so grateful for my own little things. Thank you – I really needed this today. xoxo

  6. Posted November 3, 2011 at 11:52 am | Permalink

    Lovely, just lovely. Thanks for this…xo

  7. Posted November 3, 2011 at 7:14 pm | Permalink

    Love this post, what a great idea! So sorry you are still hurting, sending you healing thoughts.

  8. Posted November 5, 2011 at 10:13 pm | Permalink

    Such a living-in-the-present post. So actively participating in your own life. I love it.