Saturday, February 24, 2018

Along the Way

Well, it is Saturday morning again. By what I chose to wear this morning, I can see I am hoping for a "Saturday-ish" day. Jeans that are a bit too baggy and my long-sleeved Subaru shirt made of recycled materials I received for "free" after purchasing my $26,000 car! Chunky, furry slippers cover my feet, and my hair, teeth and face have not yet been combed, brushed, and washed. My diffuser next to me is making bubbling water sounds while shooting up particles of Wild Orange, Lime, Motivate and Elevation essential oils, while the fake fireplace behind me puts on a show of flames accompanied by a strong, constant hum.

Brent is readying himself to go to the Chrysler dealer, where his truck's airbags will be replaced due to a recall. I will soon be on my way with him.

I long to settle into this day, into my life, but I find it challenging. Life is always moving ahead, and I always feel a little behind.

I once noticed on a hiking trail I kept saying to myself, "Why can't I keep up with Brent?" Then I switched it around and said, "Why can't he keep 'back' with me?" as though one of us were wrong for being right where we were on the trail. Often I notice that unsettledness as I navigate my days. I should be faster, I should be slower, I should be anywhere other than where I am now.

Maybe I am supposed to be right here, right now, writing my Saturday Morning reflection in my sloppy clothes.

Even as I type, the letters are on their way to the next word, the next line, the next paragraph. Soon I will be on my way to the auto dealership. Then on my way back. Rivers flow, life flows, nothing is stagnant. I suppose we are always "on the way" to somewhere. Maybe I can accept rather than resist the motion, notice the current, and pay attention to what I see, along the way. Maybe Love carries me--I'm certain it does. And even though Love is taking me places, to the next thing and the next thing, I can be still and unflailing as I rest in its embrace.

Today I will let Love usher me into each moment.

And that sounds like just where I am supposed to be, being still in Love, while Love moves me--along the way.

Diane Mann, 2018

Saturday, February 17, 2018

Last Week

It was Saturday morning a week ago, and I felt reflective while baking some brownies for my niece's baby shower.  I used an old family recipe.  I had lots of things to say--about ingredients and life and gatherings and it all coming together to create something somehow. While I stirred the brownies, an idea stirred in me to write each Saturday morning, to start a series of writings titled "Saturday Mornings."

I didn't write it down. I left my idea in the bowl while putting the real brownies into the baking pan then the oven and letting the brownies idea become a reality. 

In fact I haven't written one day since making my resolution to write most days in the new year.  It is February 17.  It is a Saturday.  So I supposed I am keeping two promises to myself, albeit late-kept promises, the commitment to write most days and starting a series of Saturday Morning reflections.

I suppose if questioned, I could come up with 110 reasons to not be writing this morning. Tense words exchanged between me and my husband set my mood early in the day. A late transcript of a deposition, long and arduous, waits to be completed. Then there's the deadline Brent and I set for wanting to leave for the cabin by midday.

I sat to write and received some instant messages from my sister, who lives in Canada, asking about--guess what?--a family recipe! We shared our funny nonspecific instructions Mom had given to each of us. The recipe is for cheesy potatoes. One package potatoes (frozen? hashed browns? diced?), one small sour cream (what is small?), one can cream of chicken or mushroom soup, cheese, cheese, cheese. Top with cheese. Cover.  Bake for 45-60 minutes (what temperature?).  Then uncover and top with more cheese and bake another 10 minutes.

Together Paula and I pieced together what might work with what's worked and hasn't worked in the past. She wondered whether my grandkids enjoyed it, hoping hers would. Emmett, my oldest, did not want to like the cheesy potatoes dish but had to admit he did and came back for seconds. I assured her once they try it, they'll be hooked.

Meanwhile what I thought of writing about my niece's shower and family recipes and ingredients of life stays inside me, not ready to be baked. But the ingredients, vague, generalized, not set in stone, are there--to be baked and enjoyed another day.

diane mann