October Reflection Again
It’s that time, when I take stock of how I’m living through some focused reflection. My OLW this year is notice, and reflection is one of the ways I’ve tried to pay more attention to my life.
This month, I am once again using Emily P. Freeman as my inspiration. She had a recent podcast on being a person in autumn, which made me pause and think about the effect the seasons have on my moods and attitudes. Her podcast went through five “s” words--stance, space, see, skip, and senses.
Stance--What is going on with me right now? I’m still holding on to too much worry about what other people think, but I appreciate that now I can notice and name it. I’m stressed more than I want to be, although when I name reasons why, they mostly seem made up in my head. Walking on concrete all day means my feet always hurt--does this also mean I’m getting old? I’m completely tired. I’m wrapping fall break around me like a blanket.
Space--What kind of space do I have in my life? Mine mostly comes at the beginning and end of the day, bookending my story and leaving me with the quiet, delectable crispy edges for myself. I love being up before anyone else and having no obligations for a half hour or 45 minutes. Joe tends to do his writing at night after the kids are in bed, so I settle in on the couch with a book and read until I fall asleep.
See--What do I see? My kids are getting bigger. My daughter is almost as tall as I am--how? Their minds are expanding, and their wit, always snappy, is maturing. We cleaned out their rooms, and there were so many childhood favorites that no longer mean the same things to them. I am the one unwilling to let them go.
Skip--What can I skip this fall? I am all about comfort right now, in my soul and in my body and in my home. I’m going to skip wearing clothes that don’t make me feel like myself, things I’ve held because they still fit and worn because they’re still in my closet. I’m ready to shed some uncomfortable things.
Senses--What do I perceive with my senses? The new pumpkin candle burning on the table. The apple cider donuts my daughter and I made. Colorful trees. The lawn mower outside and the music floating out of my son’s room. The rough texture of the corn as we wander a maze on the first day of fall break.
As I read back over this, what does it mean? I could draw some conclusions, but really, I don’t know. For me, drawing meaning from it is not the important thing right now. Holding this moment, this time, for just a second, reminds me of who I am and grounds me in a world of change.