Writing of Rain and Spit
How RICH the experiences of my life actually are....yet what a practice it is to appreciate that.
Today is a rainy, dark day here in Indiana. Being a Sunday, one on which the kids begged to stay home, it seemed like a perfect day to get some writing done for one of my projects. I'd stop to prepare lunch and dinner, but otherwise let the raindrops lull me into a beautiful rhythm where words would flow.
Then I remembered the laundry. The sheets desperately needed washing. So I put in a load, and, every 55 minutes, head downstairs to switch, carry, fold, and put away.
Ah, but still plenty of time in between that to write.
Then my son decides to pull out the Magic Rocks science project. He was intending to do it on his own, but I ended up wiping up some spill with water plus some chemical that I'm assuming won't eat away the countertop.
At least there will be some time after this, right?
My daughter trips over something in her room. When I ask her to clean her room to avoid that in the future, the whining-turning-into-wailing commences. My meditation practice isn't advanced enough to be able to type while she is doing so, nor to avoid yelling at her at least once.
And now, as I type this, the kids have taken their beanbag chairs and are pouncing on them. Being the only one who has actually experienced the mess that one of these creates when they pop (because, yes, I did that when I was young...sorry, mom), I pause to ask them to use them for sitting - not for human bomb practice.
And the dishwasher dings - time to unload the dishes.
It's nearly one o'clock - past time to start preparing lunch.
The dog is scratching at the back door wanting to be let out.
I just remembered that I have a deadline tomorrow and need to get that project finished.
And my daughter just spit on her beanbag chair and slammed her door to her room when reprimanded, probably cracking the frame.
The dog still needs let out.
Outside, a gentle mist still falls.
I may want it to be different, or have expectations how the day should go, but this is my life. These are my experiences.
I'm tense, angry, enthralled by the now-heavy rain, and a bit hungry.
I'm aware, and thankful for that.
What is happening in your experience, right now? Please share below - become aware of it and simply type.
I invite you to be present for it. Together, we practice.