Pieces of Myself

I’m paying attention to buds on the trees
each day
I see how they’ve grown
I’m paying attention to when my breath is held
my pain body active
I’m paying attention to how the quiet outside is reflected
by the quiet
inside and how the birds
dance and call
I’m paying attention to the fear that holds me back
and the fear that propels me forward
and the fear that remains
I’m paying attention today
to the army of voices that has abandoned their weapons and now bask
in the sun
I’m paying attention to the sun,
when it creeps out, when it hides, how it comes into
a room
I’m paying attention to this room and how it holds me
I’m paying attention
to being held



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Earlier in the week I came upon this

which led to me writing a poem, actually two, which I haven't done in a while. Yesterday I spent a couple hours playing guitar, which I haven't done in a while. Today I took a photo for this blog, which I haven't done in a while.

Pieces of myself that I'm glad to see again. Hopefully my soccer playing self will reappear this evening, despite the rain. I haven't seen her in a while either.

It's also been a long time since I've woken up on a Sunday with both some cleaning and grocery shopping done, which means I could get up and prepare food - split pea soup, pumpkin scones, lentil croquettes.

I also saw (while eating a delicious breakfast of steel cut oats, nuts, blackberries, dried cranberries and kiwi) in my Dad's Compassion and Choices magazine that a local legislator is sponsoring a bill to authorize the medical practice of aid in dying for terminally ill adults in Minnesota.

Quiet morning filled with the first thunderstorm of the year which pleasantly began right around the time I usually wake up. I laid in bed listening to the approaching rain and thunder.