What is it that I expect of each day?
Just to awaken; then everything else is gravy.
I sit on my porch and think about choices which others have made that have changed the course of my life in ways that I would not have chosen for myself. I resist the temptation to chronicle those choices and their negative impact on me; or, shall I say, the ways in which those choices impacted me that I do not desire. I’ve done that, but increasingly, I see that doing so robs me of my own joy. Pronouncing a list of ways that another’s choices sent me in directions that I do not like is complaining, no?
And so I resist. Instead, I rise from the rocker and trim the faded blooms from the begonias. I see that my annuals will soon succumb to the passage of time. Their splendor has served me well this year.
My life takes on structures that I did not anticipate, like the plant which has not been turned often enough to grow evenly. And yet, I’m still growing, still sending out shoots and leaves and the occasional flower.
I’m good with that. I’ll keep trying to let go of discontent with the impact on my life of the choices made by others. I’ll keep trying to direct my growth with my own stretch towards the sun, and the wiggle of my roots towards water and rich soil. I near the end of the twentieth month in my year without complaining, and I begin to see lasting effects of my efforts.
And I’m still awakening each day. That’s got to count for something!
Brian Martig inspired today’s blog entry. Thank you, Brian!