Third time's a charm...

I promise, last journal post for awhile!

The light is unusual this morning. Today the sky, the snow, and even the high oak branches are an iridescent orange-pink. Some would call it salmon but that is too dim a description. This pink fizzes-everything it falls across is changed, more alive. The old adage promises rough seas with a red morning, but pink must mean something delightful…at least I hope so. Temperatures are supposed to reach upwards of forty today-an odd juxtaposition with the foot or so of snow we have, and the clear memory of teens partnered with the promise of single digits in the coming days. I’ll take today.

I’ve learned something interesting. When you go out on a limb and try something new it doesn’t always turn out the way you hoped. I also leaned that complete honesty isn’t necessarily what people want. I have tried a different tack with my Substack posts, choosing to try a journaling format. My personal journal entries have become more than simply tracking days and feelings, lists, poems, and the occasional drawing ideas for a mural. They are more, I don’t know, memoir-ish. It feels like documenting something beyond journaling. Whatever it is, i decided to share it and people didn’t like it. My subscriber numbers shrank, considerably. Two posts outside the norm and they abandoned ship. I am more curious about this than disappointed.

Maybe this isn’t the place to experiment with change, and that’s ok. Perhaps this was an unintentional winnowing. I love that word, winnowing. It has a sound to it, and action. Not the sound of its lettering but of the physical action. There is movement, a sensuousness, a taking action to affect change. The practical aspects of it involve a separation, a shaking out. January is a good time for shaking out. The beginning of the year is when I typically do my “spring cleaning” so it makes sense, however inadvertently, to spring clean virtual spaces as well.

"I cannot say whether things will get better if we change; what I can say is they must change if they are to get better."

Georg C. Lichtenberg, German physicist

The unpredictability of change, no matter how well planned out, is a bit like stepping tenderly on a crust of new snow. You can be prepared, yet unsure of the mark you will make, or whether you will sink knee deep into the unexpected.

I have set several intentions going into ‘25, things I hope to accomplish, or desire a certain outcome for, but am holding all of it loosely. I have a practiced walk for new snow-it is a way of stepping in just the right way as to pull your weight upwards and away at the right moment in an attempt to avoid slipping, tripping, or becoming one with the drift. Without realizing it, I discovered this was how I have been approaching life lately. Stepping carefully, self-protected against hurt, or rejection, or a misstep that would change everything. This requires a certain salting of dishonesty. Something I am loathe to admit. In stepping back to avoid breaking through, in self protecting by not being fully present in each moment on the page, at work, or at home I realize, now, I am not being fully honest with the people around me, and with myself. Yes, I am cringing as I write this and it takes fortitude to not backspace my way through what makes me uncomfortable. There is another form of self-protection that requires no falseness—presence. Being present in the moment I find myself requires a tremendous amount of faith and a willingness to pay deep attention.

We have changes coming, all of us, on a regular basis. The world burns with war, and fires, and politics and the prospect is overwhelming. Light step as I would like to-these things can’t be avoided. I can be aware of all that is going on, but I can only be near, affect, impact, or change what I can reach. I can only truly experience what immediately surrounds me. I am going to lean into that space praying for grace, compassion, and focus.

What does it mean for you to be present, exactly now, where you are? Do you step lightly, pulling back ever so slightly to avoid leaving a mark? What would it look like to step into this moment, without judgement, or desire for something different? I’ll go first…

This is what I am seeing…

At first all I want to see is the mess I have covering my table. The chaos of books and notes that are a pretty good representation of my mind right now. I jump into judgement almost immediately-what a mess I am. Why can’t I…and you fill in the blank. Then all the thoughts of what I need to be doing instead of sitting here blathering on, writing on Substack when I should be cleaning up. Wasting my time writing. period. when I am no writer…and on, and on comes the landslide of nattering voices. I look down, then look up again, breathe. I see the sun. The pink fizz of morning has given way to sun. I see the smattering of yellows that step across my table. Beyond that, the melting piles of snow, and beyond that trees and light, and space for the day to expand. Paying attention didn’t change what’s in front of me-I will still have a mess to clean up. It did offer me something more beautiful than merely a pile to be tidied-it gave me the gift of being where I am, seeing more than just things to be done. Being present helped me silence some of the noise, some of the voices crowding out my own life. I know this is an oversimplification, but, I don’t know about you, I need to begin somewhere-even if it’s something small.

Did I solve anything today-probably not. Did I change the world-definitely not. Did I make space for change, for hope, for something better? I hope so.

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Feel free to say hello in the comments, share what helps you step into your moments more present-

I’d share what I’m reading but I’ve already spread it out, all over my table, for you…

Peace friends,

Susan