Monday, December 22, 2008
There is a distinct possibility that up until this past weekend I had actually succumbed to the Humbug spirit. Yes, it’s supposed to be a season lush with merry spirits, thankfulness and joyous bliss. I felt more like a prune, dry, withered and weathered. Sounds kind of sad, but it’s true. I didn’t have the energy to get into the Christmas spirit. I didn’t have the patience for sweetness. I didn’t want to be generous, I wanted to horde because I had so little to give. What I didn’t realize is that when you continue to push when you need to stop, fidget when you’re supposed to rest, and create more drama when you should be at peace… well, inevitably things start to wear out. This weekend I slept in. I took long walks, three of them, even in the bitter cold. I ate good food (which means more than Christmas cookies and chocolate). I wrote in my journal. And I did all of these things with the intent to nourish. Not to simply cross it off my list. Gosh, I never would have thought I would be the Scrouge at Christmas, but I was. Just ask my husband. Hunny, I promise to let you scrap off the car in the mornings if you want, I won’t bully you into giving me the scrapper because I think I could do it better. Promise! I still have the need for attitude adjustments, but at least a different perspective won’t feel so painful.
images from James Merrell