Five obsessions


Tagged by internationalorange

These things are always fun. The object is to write about five random obsessions. In my case, it’s probably only the first two that I could call true obsessions, but the others are things I can’t really live without, so close enough.

1. Cats. I dare say I might be even more obsessed with cats than I am the second thing I will name, photography. I’ve loved cats as far back as I can remember. I had a stuffed tiger that I dragged around everywhere as a tiny child, and the first cat I remember was our neighbors’ tabby cat, Tabitha, a fantastic name for a tabby cat. My sister and I pestered our parents for years and years to get a cat & they finally relented when I was 9. We got Pina, a long haired, long suffering tortie cat. My sister and I loved that cat to pieces & bothered the hell out of her all the time. Despite this, Pina lived to the incredible age of 21. We all still miss her. As cool as it was to have a cat as a child, it’s been an absolute joy having two cats of my own, Hallie and Henry. They are both so lovable- Hallie because she’s a scaredy cat & has a typical cat personality, and she loves me & that’s pretty much it. She follows me around, she sleeps next to me. I love her so much. Henry, our tabby, is so lovable that he loves everyone & everyone loves him.

2. Photography. I’ve always been into art, but in college, I sucked at painting & was only okay at drawing. I was going to be a graphic design major, but I transferred schools before I took any graphic design classes & there weren’t any graphic design classes at the school I transferred to. (There are now. I often wonder what my career path would have been, had I stayed with graphic design. Wouldn’t have had to have taught it to myself, that’s for sure) I had to pick a concentration a few semesters in, and the only openings were ceramics and photography. My artist uncle had an old camera he was willing to give me, so I thought, what the hell? Photography is perfect for me. As an artist, I’m an arranger- one who takes things that already exist & rearranges them into something new. I’m not a Maker- an artist that can create things from the ether. I wish I was sometimes, but being an arranger suits my practical nature. Photography has been good to me. I’m not a fashion photographer, I’m not a wedding photographer and I’m not a “lifestyle family photographer.” My favorite things to photograph are natural places. I have a day job as a corporate photographer and graphic designer so I can afford to buy plane tickets to beautiful, natural places.

3. Teaching. There’s an adage out there- if you want to do something well, teach it. You will never learn more than when you teach your passion. I also believe if you have a gift, you need to give back. I’ve taught photography for 15 years and counting.

4. Coffee, black. My parents drink their coffee black, and that’s how I learned how it’s done. I have coffee every morning, no matter how hot it is outside. At work, I bring it in a slim thermos and drink it for several hours in the morning.

5. Walking. I’ve walked for fitness, for transportation ever since my high school days of not having a car. I love a long, long walk. It’s meditative, it helps me think. In recent years, I’ve gotten my regular exercise by running (in my case it’s more like walk jogging) and cycling, but I still walk when I can. I love to escape the office at lunch and go for a walk, or to walk up and down the main drag in my neighborhood.

The Silent Yogi

I’ve been getting reacquainted with yoga lately. I’ve been interested in yoga for a long time and have practiced it off and on for about four or five years.

It’s hard to learn yoga on your own, and in part, unadvisable. If you don’t do the poses right; if you don’t have proper alignment, you can crank your back or some other joint or appendage. For this reason, it’s best to learn yoga in person & not via internet tutorials. 

Showing up to a yoga class sets many of my insecurities afire. In bigger classes, it’s not so bad. I show up, slink in, set up my mat, practice, and then slink out. It’s harder where I’ve been going the past few weeks. I love the workout, the studio is nice, the teachers are great, but it’s a small studio and I think they all know each other. It’s mostly all women, and I’ve tried to be diligent and arrive early and I shyly say hi to the people working the desk and smile at the fellow students, but I don’t know them, they don’t know me, and I feel that old childhood awkwardness. I’m on the outside looking in, and I’m never going to break into a clique- not if my life depended on it. But this is yoga, and yoga, among other things, is a community. If these ladies knew I felt like such the old, awkward bird around them, they’d most assuredly think I was being silly.

But that’s part of life- you need to do things to push yourself out of your comfort zone. I was so very tempted to give way to morning laziness and the safety and comfort of my home and not go to class. I even started walking toward my computer to cancel. But I didn’t. I put on my yoga clothes and I showed up. I chatted a bit in the lobby, but mostly sat silently on my mat and then practiced silently. The upside is the fitting in occupies my mind so I never think about being able to do the workout. The workout in these classes is difficult. I have a good five, maybe ten years on most of the yogis- I have come to this stage of life. I can keep up mostly, and the nice thing about yoga- the poses are varied and diverse, so if you suck at some of them (eagle pose, ughhh), you might be really good at others (pigeon- my favorite). 

To truly practice yoga, it is a marriage of mind, body and spirit. A difficult yoga session can silence the mind and bring you back into balance. This is something I discount too often. I’m always working, working to be more comfortable in my own skin. I get to a certain point, think I’m doing well- think I’ve “cured” myself of insecurity, but for some things there is no cure- it’s a matter of adapting and learning to live with things in a way that keeps you as comfortable as you can be, in the great hairshirt that life brings sometimes.

The Silent Yogi

I’ve been getting reacquainted with yoga lately. I’ve been interested in yoga for a long time and have practiced it off and on for about four or five years.

It’s hard to learn yoga on your own, and in part, unadvisable. If you don’t do the poses right; if you don’t have proper alignment, you can crank your back or some other joint or appendage. For this reason, it’s best to learn yoga in person & not via internet tutorials.

Showing up to a yoga class sets many of my insecurities afire. In bigger classes, it’s not so bad. I show up, slink in, set up my mat, practice, and then slink out. It’s harder where I’ve been going the past few weeks. I love the workout, the studio is nice, the teachers are great, but it’s a small studio and I think they all know each other. It’s mostly all women, and I’ve tried to be diligent and arrive early and I shyly say hi to the people working the desk and smile at the fellow students, but I don’t know them, they don’t know me, and I feel that old childhood awkwardness. I’m on the outside looking in, and I’m never going to break into a clique- not if my life depended on it. But this is yoga, and yoga, among other things, is a community. If these ladies knew I felt like such the old, awkward bird around them, they’d most assuredly think I was being silly.

But that’s part of life- you need to do things to push yourself out of your comfort zone. I was so very tempted to give way to morning laziness and the safety and comfort of my home and not go to class. I even started walking toward my computer to cancel. But I didn’t. I put on my yoga clothes and I showed up. I chatted a bit in the lobby, but mostly sat silently on my mat and then practiced silently. The upside is the fitting in occupies my mind so I never think about being able to do the workout. The workout in these classes is difficult. I have a good five, maybe ten years on most of the yogis- I have come to this stage of life. I can keep up mostly, and the nice thing about yoga- the poses are varied and diverse, so if you suck at some of them (eagle pose, ughhh), you might be really good at others (pigeon- my favorite).

To truly practice yoga, it is a marriage of mind, body and spirit. A difficult yoga session can silence the mind and bring you back into balance. This is something I discount too often. I’m always working, working to be more comfortable in my own skin. I get to a certain point, think I’m doing well- think I’ve “cured” myself of insecurity, but for some things there is no cure- it’s a matter of adapting and learning to live with things in a way that keeps you as comfortable as you can be, in the great hairshirt that life brings sometimes.

Unbearable lightness of being

I read that book, years ago. I remember liking it, but I also remember because my professor recommended it to me, personally, and back in those undergraduate days, it was rare when a professor talked to you at all. I don’t remember what it was about, or anything else. But the title- how it resonates. The lightness of being- a nice thought and in our good moments, may it be so. But in others, the heaviness of being. The responsibility we are charged with, the people in our lives, and everything that we need. That they need.

I hope, in my heart of hearts, that we all try to be good. I can honestly say that I do. Many times I try so hard to fulfill expectations- real or imagined- that I don’t think of myself at all. I try to please everyone; in the end might please no one. That’s a trap. We must take care of ourselves first, else we won’t have the fortitude or energy to take care of anyone else.

My big enemy is time. I don’t have enough of it, I don’t always use it wisely, and though I spend as much of it as I can with people I love- it’s not enough, it never is.

But what do you do? You do the best you can. That’s all any of us can do, and it has to be enough. 

And then there is the inherent shyness, my reserved nature, such a part of my being. I can never really express what people mean to me. It’s just too much. Some of it just IS. I can’t put into words what things, what people mean to me, because it’s just too big for words.

Unbearable lightness of being

I read that book, years ago. I remember liking it, but I also remember because my professor recommended it to me, personally, and back in those undergraduate days, it was rare when a professor talked to you at all. I don’t remember what it was about, or anything else. But the title- how it resonates. The lightness of being- a nice thought and in our good moments, may it be so. But in others, the heaviness of being. The responsibility we are charged with, the people in our lives, and everything that we need. That they need.

I hope, in my heart of hearts, that we all try to be good. I can honestly say that I do. Many times I try so hard to fulfill expectations- real or imagined- that I don’t think of myself at all. I try to please everyone; in the end might please no one. That’s a trap. We must take care of ourselves first, else we won’t have the fortitude or energy to take care of anyone else.

My big enemy is time. I don’t have enough of it, I don’t always use it wisely, and though I spend as much of it as I can with people I love- it’s not enough, it never is.

But what do you do? You do the best you can. That’s all any of us can do, and it has to be enough.

And then there is the inherent shyness, my reserved nature, such a part of my being. I can never really express what people mean to me. It’s just too much. Some of it just IS. I can’t put into words what things, what people mean to me, because it’s just too big for words.

Purpose

The last entry I wrote here was so good, I don’t know if I’ll be able to top it. But there’s the rub- once you do something good, you don’t stop. You have to keep going. Easier said than done.

Our society dictates that there should be purpose to what we do. What sort of purpose? Well, ideally to be good to others. But is that the goal to which everyone aspires? I went out to lunch today. I went to place my order, and was nearly knocked over by the woman ahead of me, because she wanted to have a look at the specials. Never mind that there was someone right in her path. “Oh, sorry,” she says. She’s not sorry that she nearly plowed into me, and I am not sorry I gave her the stink eye. I try very hard to be nice, but even I have my limits. At the same restaurant, there is an easy & clear place to self-bus your table, yet most people didn’t. My lunch cost seven dollars and change. The least I can do is take my dishes away & not leave a mess. I’m not saying I’m better than everyone else; it’s just meaningful to think of others sometimes.

I think of others a lot. It does consume me, but it doesn’t absolve me. You just can’t please everyone. No matter who you are, what you do, you can’t please everyone. You just can’t. Some people expect too much, and sometimes I just fail. I don’t mean to, but I do. My commitments pile on top of me & I let them bury me. You put the fire that burns brightest out first. For me, I live a live where my career is very very important to me, so it takes precedence. Maybe that’s not wise, I don’t know. Society has certain expectations of women & I’ve basically given them the middle finger. You do that, you’re going to pay a price. People won’t understand. Everyone else is going right- why are you going left? As a woman, you owe the world certain things, the world says, and I say the hell with that. I love many people and many things, but I am not nurturing. I am a giver, but I’m not going to give all.

And so- what is our purpose? It’s really up to us to decide that. Some days, you may not feel it is up to you, but it is. It is. It IS.

Purpose

The last entry I wrote here was so good, I don’t know if I’ll be able to top it. But there’s the rub- once you do something good, you don’t stop. You have to keep going. Easier said than done.

Our society dictates that there should be purpose to what we do. What sort of purpose? Well, ideally to be good to others. But is that the goal to which everyone aspires? I went out to lunch today. I went to place my order, and was nearly knocked over by the woman ahead of me, because she wanted to have a look at the specials. Never mind that there was someone right in her path. “Oh, sorry,” she says. She’s not sorry that she nearly plowed into me, and I am not sorry I gave her the stink eye. I try very hard to be nice, but even I have my limits. At the same restaurant, there is an easy & clear place to self-bus your table, yet most people didn’t. My lunch cost seven dollars and change. The least I can do is take my dishes away & not leave a mess. I’m not saying I’m better than everyone else; it’s just meaningful to think of others sometimes.

I think of others a lot. It does consume me, but it doesn’t absolve me. You just can’t please everyone. No matter who you are, what you do, you can’t please everyone. You just can’t. Some people expect too much, and sometimes I just fail. I don’t mean to, but I do. My commitments pile on top of me & I let them bury me. You put the fire that burns brightest out first. For me, I live a live where my career is very very important to me, so it takes precedence. Maybe that’s not wise, I don’t know. Society has certain expectations of women & I’ve basically given them the middle finger. You do that, you’re going to pay a price. People won’t understand. Everyone else is going right- why are you going left? As a woman, you owe the world certain things, the world says, and I say the hell with that. I love many people and many things, but I am not nurturing. I am a giver, but I’m not going to give all.

And so- what is our purpose? It’s really up to us to decide that. Some days, you may not feel it is up to you, but it is. It is. It IS.

impermanence 

I was folding the laundry today and I got to thinking about this concept of impermanence. Looking it up, just now, to make sure I had the spelling right, I see it’s a Buddhist concept. I’m not religious, but some of the notions of Buddhism make sense to me, as much as my agnostic mind can grasp them.

I feel a little bit like a constant in my circle of existence. I live where I was born, I went away, but I came back. I watched my friends leave, one by one, though some are still here. Things change in my little town, but I am still here. For now. But none of us are here forever. 

My dad told me once that his father told him that the only constant in life is change. That’s very true. Change is hard, and me planting my stake here in the ground has made things stay still for me. I watch all the flux around me, and I feel deeply for my loved ones who get caught up in it, but I don’t say a lot. It’s hard to communicate how deeply you feel for others. I don’t come from effusive stock. We are quiet; we hold our cards close, we trust few, and above all, we don’t want to be a bother. 

We are all the sum of all of these parts: where we came from, where we’ve been, what we’ve done, who we know. I try to be good. It doesn’t always work. I keep often to myself; I am quiet; I am distant. Words are easier for me to write than they are to say. The extroverts of the world might think that’s a cop out, but the introverts know. With my written words, I honor you, and I can tell you how very much you mean to me. How I carry you all with me and how I hold you in my heart. In person, all you’ll get is my presence (sometimes) and my eyes on you (sometimes) and a few words, parceled out carefully. 

Spoken words are impermanent. They are uttered into the air, sometimes heard, sometimes swallowed into the din. The written word, if properly preserved, can last a long time. I like to capture memories; another reason why I write them down, why I am a photographer. Life is so heavy, so heady- I want to get a handle on it. But you can’t. We are all just humans, stumbling on, doing the best we can, until we can’t. Until the light goes out. 

Heavy thoughts for a Sunday night, I know. Some might look upon the state of impermanence as liberating, or perhaps it infuses you with purpose. This is one of many reasons I stay so busy all the time. Because, one day, time will run out. And because of that time running out, and all of you, my memories of you running like sand through my fingers, piling up like little jewels in my mind, I should tell you more often that you mean the world to me. But I think you might know, and those of you out there, you know who you are- I will help you with your struggle as best I can, which sometimes might not be much, or enough, but that’s the permanence- the love, the friendship, the sisterhood, the time, the conspiracy, the memory and the impact. That’s the shooting star across the fabric of time.

impermanence

I was folding the laundry today and I got to thinking about this concept of impermanence. Looking it up, just now, to make sure I had the spelling right, I see it’s a Buddhist concept. I’m not religious, but some of the notions of Buddhism make sense to me, as much as my agnostic mind can grasp them.

I feel a little bit like a constant in my circle of existence. I live where I was born, I went away, but I came back. I watched my friends leave, one by one, though some are still here. Things change in my little town, but I am still here. For now. But none of us are here forever.

My dad told me once that his father told him that the only constant in life is change. That’s very true. Change is hard, and me planting my stake here in the ground has made things stay still for me. I watch all the flux around me, and I feel deeply for my loved ones who get caught up in it, but I don’t say a lot. It’s hard to communicate how deeply you feel for others. I don’t come from effusive stock. We are quiet; we hold our cards close, we trust few, and above all, we don’t want to be a bother.

We are all the sum of all of these parts: where we came from, where we’ve been, what we’ve done, who we know. I try to be good. It doesn’t always work. I keep often to myself; I am quiet; I am distant. Words are easier for me to write than they are to say. The extroverts of the world might think that’s a cop out, but the introverts know. With my written words, I honor you, and I can tell you how very much you mean to me. How I carry you all with me and how I hold you in my heart. In person, all you’ll get is my presence (sometimes) and my eyes on you (sometimes) and a few words, parceled out carefully.

Spoken words are impermanent. They are uttered into the air, sometimes heard, sometimes swallowed into the din. The written word, if properly preserved, can last a long time. I like to capture memories; another reason why I write them down, why I am a photographer. Life is so heavy, so heady- I want to get a handle on it. But you can’t. We are all just humans, stumbling on, doing the best we can, until we can’t. Until the light goes out.

Heavy thoughts for a Sunday night, I know. Some might look upon the state of impermanence as liberating, or perhaps it infuses you with purpose. This is one of many reasons I stay so busy all the time. Because, one day, time will run out. And because of that time running out, and all of you, my memories of you running like sand through my fingers, piling up like little jewels in my mind, I should tell you more often that you mean the world to me. But I think you might know, and those of you out there, you know who you are- I will help you with your struggle as best I can, which sometimes might not be much, or enough, but that’s the permanence- the love, the friendship, the sisterhood, the time, the conspiracy, the memory and the impact. That’s the shooting star across the fabric of time.

oatmeal:

Read more comics here. 

Haha! So true!

oatmeal:

Read more comics here

Haha! So true!

Om


I read about a cool thing 502 Power Yoga was doing called Yoga on Tap recently. Yoga and beer- what’s not to like? I talked a friend of mine into coming to the next one with me, but in the meantime I thought it would be cool to check out the studio. They are a somewhat new studio, and I’ve followed their progress on Twitter for a while. It looked like a cozy place, and the type of yoga they do there is called Hot Baptiste, which is a style I had not tried before.

At the end of last year on into this year, I’d been practicing yoga at work. We have a great class there, but I had to quit going. Every single time I came to class, there was a woman who sat in front of me, and with every pose she moaned. I mean, I know yoga is supposed to be relaxing, and sometimes it is challenging to flow from one pose another, and maybe I’m not a very good yogi, not being able to enjoy her getting her moan on, but damn, it was distracting. So I decided to get my Zen in other ways. 

Meanwhile, I missed yoga. I used to go to Yoga East a lot back when I had more time when I was working as a freelancer. I still go there once in a while. I’ve tried Yoga on Baxter. It’s a good studio too; a friend of mine teaches there. We have no shortage of great studios here. What I have a shortage of is time. I always wish I had more time to do everything. I had this morning free and I carved out some time to go to an hour and a half class.

Wow. Power Yoga is essentially hot yoga, and it is a workout. I was very, very glad I’ve been running in the heat lately, and that I’m in decent shape, because if I hadn’t been, I would not have been able to hang with that pace. Hot yoga is also hot. I got so sweaty that my clothes were dripping, my hair was dripping, my feet and hands were slipping on my mat and sweat dripped off my face, tickling my nose and falling to the floor. 

The heat and the fast pace might sound awful as you read this, but they have their advantages. In yoga, you are supposed to empty your mind and concentrate on your breath. I always have a hard time with that. My mind goes a hundred miles an hour, and during any yoga class I take, I have to force it to stop thinking about work, what I’m going to have for lunch or dinner, what I ate for lunch and dinner in the past, what I need to do the rest of the day- you name it. During this hot yoga class, if I didn’t concentrate on my breath, I’d probably pass out. It’s intense and you’re moving fast and I breathed hard like I do when I run. And once I got to that point, it was easy to stop thinking about anything other than breathing in and out, keeping up with the pace, and not busting my ass on my sweaty yoga mat. I appreciated that. I think way too much, and it was nice to get a break.

The heat helps you concentrate, too. I knew it was going to be hot, so I was smart and bypassed my morning coffee this morning and drank some water. I also brought water to class, and I had a feeling I’d need the biggest water bottle I had, and I was right. I think I might be part sea monkey, because I require water when I do intense exercise. I don’t know how people can go running without water. Even on short runs, I need water. It helps me keep going, and I’d’ve never made it without water for this class. I probably sweat as much as I drank, maybe more. The sweat is challenging, because it makes everything so slippery. I had a little towel that I kept mopping it all up with. Again, reading this the sweat might sound awful, but it actually felt kind of good. It felt like it “cleansed my pores.” The only drawback was getting into my new-to-me car afterward with its cloth seats. I had a spare towel in the back, but man, next time I might need a drop cloth!

It’s always fun to try something new with exercise, and to step out of your comfort zone a little bit. The people at this studio were very welcoming and it has good mojo. It’s also nice when you try an intense workout like this and make it through, because it’s easy to doubt yourself. 

At the end of class, they turned on the fans and music and gave us lavender scented washcloths to put over our eyes as we lay there in savasana. They started and ended the class with three oms, and as we all moved into a seated position on our mats and said the oms at our own pace at the end, it was a little bit heavenly to listen as they petered out into silence, ringing into quiet. 

Been there. Many times.

Been there. Many times.

(Source: usesparingly)

summertime

It’s here, officially. Yesterday was the longest day of the year. I’m glad that happens in summer- when everything is green and blooming. It’s so nice to see the sun. Of course, it’s only a matter of time- and we’ve had some of those days already- where it’s so hot & humid that it’s not always enjoyable. But that’s just part of it. Nothing is perfect.

My favorite season is spring, but I love summer too. Childhood seems both like yesterday and a lifetime ago. I remember spending the long hours of summer as a kid being carefree and lazy, but I don’t really remember the specifics. I remember childhood every time I get on my bike. I spent a lot of time riding then as I do now. It was wonderful to have all that luxury of time back then. No school, no work, very little chores. We’d get bored back then- so enormous was our cache of free time.

You don’t get bored as an adult, unless you are one place filling obligations when you wish to be in another. With great freedom, comes great responsibility. You are free as an adult, but not really. It all seemed simpler looking into the future of adulthood with a child’s eyes.

I’ve written before about how I feel that this is kind of a transitional part of my life, or maybe it’s that it is a part of my life where the big things are secure- partner, house, job- but it’s the little things that are on the table. How do you take the chess pieces of your life and arrange them to the best possible advantage? Or, in my case, when you have all these gifts in your hands, how do you make sure you truly appreciate them?

Blooming where you are planted. That’s something I’ve been working on for years. It’s harder than it should be. It’s amazing how much worry & conflict we create in our minds that is not even there. Or the amount of time we spend worrying about what we can’t change. Summer is a nice time, a sunny time. There is time to relax amongst the work. It’s important to take that time; store up the peace of relaxation so that you’ll have energy remaining when things get stressful.

I am lucky- I don’t have a lot of stress. Like most people, much of my stress comes from my job. My job isn’t overall stressful, but it ebbs and flows. My job duties are slowly transitioning. I’m happy about this. I’ve wanted more responsibility and more creative projects. Well. Be careful what you wish for. “With great power comes great responsibility.” It’s not stressful when you’re working on a low profile project, but moving to a noticeable project… if you screw up the obscure, no one cares, but the high profile, that’s another story.

Ah, but it will all be fine, and I am trying to pause sometimes and appreciate that I have the luxury to worry about this. Life is good.

All the weekly summer work brings some of that delicious down time. Sitting on the porch with friends. Dining out with my husband. Walking in the humid air. Eating fresh berries. Going for coffee and ice cream. Having the family over for potluck, and the cherry on top- vacationing, and taking in sights like the one above, flowers  in Asheville, NC.

Welcome, summer. Hope you stick around for awhile.

summertime

It’s here, officially. Yesterday was the longest day of the year. I’m glad that happens in summer- when everything is green and blooming. It’s so nice to see the sun. Of course, it’s only a matter of time- and we’ve had some of those days already- where it’s so hot & humid that it’s not always enjoyable. But that’s just part of it. Nothing is perfect.

My favorite season is spring, but I love summer too. Childhood seems both like yesterday and a lifetime ago. I remember spending the long hours of summer as a kid being carefree and lazy, but I don’t really remember the specifics. I remember childhood every time I get on my bike. I spent a lot of time riding then as I do now. It was wonderful to have all that luxury of time back then. No school, no work, very little chores. We’d get bored back then- so enormous was our cache of free time.

You don’t get bored as an adult, unless you are one place filling obligations when you wish to be in another. With great freedom, comes great responsibility. You are free as an adult, but not really. It all seemed simpler looking into the future of adulthood with a child’s eyes.

I’ve written before about how I feel that this is kind of a transitional part of my life, or maybe it’s that it is a part of my life where the big things are secure- partner, house, job- but it’s the little things that are on the table. How do you take the chess pieces of your life and arrange them to the best possible advantage? Or, in my case, when you have all these gifts in your hands, how do you make sure you truly appreciate them?

Blooming where you are planted. That’s something I’ve been working on for years. It’s harder than it should be. It’s amazing how much worry & conflict we create in our minds that is not even there. Or the amount of time we spend worrying about what we can’t change. Summer is a nice time, a sunny time. There is time to relax amongst the work. It’s important to take that time; store up the peace of relaxation so that you’ll have energy remaining when things get stressful.

I am lucky- I don’t have a lot of stress. Like most people, much of my stress comes from my job. My job isn’t overall stressful, but it ebbs and flows. My job duties are slowly transitioning. I’m happy about this. I’ve wanted more responsibility and more creative projects. Well. Be careful what you wish for. “With great power comes great responsibility.” It’s not stressful when you’re working on a low profile project, but moving to a noticeable project… if you screw up the obscure, no one cares, but the high profile, that’s another story.

Ah, but it will all be fine, and I am trying to pause sometimes and appreciate that I have the luxury to worry about this. Life is good.

All the weekly summer work brings some of that delicious down time. Sitting on the porch with friends. Dining out with my husband. Walking in the humid air. Eating fresh berries. Going for coffee and ice cream. Having the family over for potluck, and the cherry on top- vacationing, and taking in sights like the one above, flowers in Asheville, NC.

Welcome, summer. Hope you stick around for awhile.

kateoplis:

"Whatever happens, happens to you, by you, through you. 
You are the creator, enjoyer and destroyer of all you perceive.”
— Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj
Photo: Herman Landshoff

kateoplis:

"Whatever happens, happens to you, by you, through you.

You are the creator, enjoyer and destroyer of all you perceive.”

— Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

Photo: Herman Landshoff