I hate being told what to do, how to feel, what to write, or how to behave …
Someone once chided me, I shouldn’t write about my down-days; instead, I should be consistently upbeat, or – in other words – to splay some sunshine around. Not likely!
I told him, I do focus on the affirmative, just not every day – because that’s not me and because I feel I have an unwritten contract with my readers to not blow sunshine when it ought not to be shone.
Most days, I wake up to my cheery disposition with motivation to thrive, but not always.
I’m on record as wanting to and choreographing my life to live a very long time – but periodically, some combo of a restless night, horrible dream and waking with a kink in my neck, I ponder the bliss that must come from dying in your sleep …
Seriously, that’s better than a fall, car crash, severe disease, or freezing outside in the cold!
But waking up is just a first step, is it not?
There is the standing up, toileting, hitting the on-button on the coffee maker and pulling on clothes, making the bed – none of which are cruel or brutal tasks. I look at the fresh-made bed and wonder what kind of day it might be because I’m not a corpse in that bed – I’m alive, will thrive, and I am alive. Today will bring a mix of cold-weather activities, driving and walking, and warming up again, and today will be filled with calls made, answered, notes sent or answered, and media dabbling.
Most mornings lately, I click on my SMART-TV (stay tuned for a column on that little adventure) bring up a YouTube music video. I have several saved that run for many hours and fill my place with sounds I could never assemble with a CD player and patience – and yesterday, while drafting this column, I looked across the empty made bed to look at drone photographs of New England in the fall.
In reality, yesterday was -27C at 6AAM, dark outside, followed by brilliant sunshine all day long.
Today will likely bring more of the same, but slightly milder.
Sit-ups, some time on the treadmill, listing to an audiobook, breakfast, write, work, write, work, write, work, write … it’s going to be a great day, again, and again, and again – I promise to let you know if that ever gets tedious, or if I want to stop making the bed …
Waking up to reality is somedays a cruel thing.
Teeth still in the glass. Dark outside. Some days, waking up to reality is a cruel and often disappointing start – alone, gumming my cereal; it will be light soon.