I don’t say this enough, much less think it, but I am thankful for the small moments of splendor and wonder that punctuate my days. Em dashes and ellipses that are more about pauses and parenthetical asides than they are omissions and deletions. The sky this morning has all the makings of a painting… stripped of the foreground, it could be a beach or a countryside. I’m struck not just by the colors, but the by the brightness getting brighter. I began to wonder how many afternoons of sunlight and blue I’ve failed to notice – either because I’ve been trapped in the institutional light of office work or because I never stopped to look – or more accurately, looked but forgot to see. All that daylight I’ve let go unnoticed. I came across a small line from a poem that fit the tone, “the blue sleeve of the long / afternoon.” In this way of thinking, it feels like I get up, do some things, and then disappear into some other world for the better part of a day, and then re-emerge with a few hours of light left, but often too tired, or without adequate options, to make much use of the remaining daylight. Maybe this is just a long metaphor for getting older, sensing that the days are already getting shorter and I’ve forgotten to pay attention.
As often happens, I’m thinking about where I put my energies. I’m nagged by Mary Oliver’s statement about giving her very best second self to her job. I’m bothered that I’m not sure I give my best self to any one thing. Do we need to be all-in on something? Not doing so can feel a little thin – which I suppose is where mindfulness and being present might help. Give your best self to what’s in front of you…. I remember a conversation in which a girlfriend was listing her priorities. I was first, her dog was second, work was third. She had forgotten to include herself or her writing or whatever it might have been in life that got her jazzed to be alive (though maybe in the moment, that was me). I wish I could recall the context. Had she sensed a level of insecurity in me? Something that needed reassurance? Having said it, I tried to hold her to that standard – took offense when the order got rearranged. I’m sure Oliver had moments, days, or even weeks when she had to give her best self elsewhere. Did she resent it? Did she feel boxed in? Or did she recognize several best selves? This all sounds more tormented than it actually is. For me, I’m trying to recognize when I feel my best – and then trying to capture that as often as possible. This inevitably leads to some level of disappointment – or acceptance that it’s difficult to be on that type of “high” on a consistent basis. Appreciating the morning light is one of those moments. To quote Vonnegut quoting his uncle, “If this isn’t nice, what is?”
And just like that, the dog begins to whine because he’s bored or has to go out and I’m reminded that I need to get going and get on with my day. Maybe, one day, I’ll learn to appreciate the interruptions too… begin to see them as a transition to something different with the possibility of being equally as pleasing.
Higher now, the sun hits the corner of my eye and casts shadows on the undersides of the leaves of the houseplants next to me – dappled seems to be the word that fits. In love with the moment, the morning light, the desire to linger and the longing of having partially departed, all I can really say as my thoughts and movements trail off in other directions – the ellipses of something more too come – is, “this is nice, but I have to go.”