It’s funny how, when things are difficult, some small noisy part of us thinks that the lousier habits, that rise up ,will somehow be exempt. From the natural rules of choice and consequence.
And yet, gravity still exists. Crap still accumulates, and can slay us, from lousy habits during tough times.
I’ve been flirting with coffee milkshakes, to soothe tough sad afternoons. Butter laden pesto and gnocchi , to smooth difficult nights.
I’ve been pretending the basil is a green vegetable. I’ve been telling myself the milk and sugar and ice cream are just momentary crutches. But the guck from them still marches on.
The lousy feeling when you wake. The heavy lymph and lungs. The realization that you could save $85 and snowblow today yourself, except you see what it will do to your back, your immunity. Because you’ve been growing inflamed and messy.
And yet, veering off and thrashing about can wake you up, too. Can shake you awake from your ‘It’s so tough’ waking dream.
So I’m glad, today, to reawaken. To greet myself in the darkness before the dawn.
I’m sipping miso to clean out the guck and I’m soaking lungs with a suck-out-the-guck castor oil poultice.
I’m sautéing a bunch of broccoli and mushroom and shallot , and buying a pricey all-ready-for-you fruit salad.
I’m going to greet the sad and angry and loss and hurt with big strong arms , like we all know how to do for our selves, for each other.
I’m going to sing to myself ‘Just one day at a time’ and heat up some fragrant sweet tea.
Because this stuff just happens. No matter how shocking or unanticipated it seems.
When we look around, we see it’s happened all over .
All kinds of tough tough .
And look, we are all still standing.
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