“Set an intention for your yoga practice today,” says the Not-Julie yoga sub at the beginning of Friday practice. My intention, I thought, is to not let your voice annoy me. I am judgmental. I will just own that. I have been called provincial by a former loved one, which seems to me is sort of another word for judgmental, with me being the province.
Here we are nearing the end of Lent and it is a good time to renew intentions set for the new year. If only I could remember what they were. I was going to
greet every day with five half-sun salutations. I forgot for the entire month of January; but since then I have done very well. And I was going to get back to Wednesday weight machines at the Y; I have not done well with that. Since the time changed I have not gotten to the cemetery for the sunrise very often; and consequently I have not been writing and posting One Sentence Mornings.
And then there is my One Little Word. I did the first month's assignment with enthusiasm, and waited impatiently for January to end so I could get the next assignment. I was less enthusiastic about February, and finally, just before month's-end, I figured out my own tweak to the assignment and finished it just before March's instruction came. And I don't like March, either. It feels too small--though small was the point. The instructor's experience has been that
March is a month when participants lose interest, so she purposely made the exercise humble. But, I thought,
small isn't working for me right now; I need
BIG, so I wasn't challenged and I have not been purposeful. I see now, though, that the month has been chock full of small happenings involving my word, even though I did not write them down and set an intention to make them happen. I am a list maker, and I often add things to my list after I do them and mark them off so it doesn't appear that nothing has been happening. Which makes it a list of accomplishments rather than intentions. So my OLW in March will be an accounting of achievements without premeditation. Sometimes our work comes from deep within and our brains are the last to know.
I have been cleaning out closets and drawers and cupboards for the past several weeks. Every so often I get tired of things hanging around that are of no use nor value to me. I have never liked clutter. (Well, not for a really long time--since the clothes strung around the bedroom teenage years.) It's another bit of my judgmental personality when it comes to other people's homes, too. I can let it be okay, if it works for them (which I doubt), but I don't know how they can live in it. No, I am not OCD, I just like freedom from the detritus of life that doesn't add value. And I start thinking about what within me needs to be cleaned out. And what needs to make its way in.
Weeds in the garden don't add value. And the warm days and the plenitude of rain this week have resulted in a lot of weeds that need to be pulled. If it stops storming long enough. Perhaps today. Yesterday I run out of the house between showers to plant vegetables. Red peppers, spinach, yellow squash (which I realize now is the composted mystery plant growing in my birdbath planter), and grape tomatoes join the Brussels sprouts and snap peas.
What I notice most in the garden this week is the exchange of individual flowers that pop up victoriously through the hard ground and the cold of early spring, for the lavish clumps of color that are the hallmark of the current warmth and wet. March showers bring March flowers; the 2012 southern version of the traditional premise. The last of the hostas that I have been watching for, also make their appearance this week.
Moles, which couldn’t dig through the yard last summer due to extreme heat and hard earth, are making up for lost ground these warm, wet weeks. Greg Fischel shows proof on the weather trivia this week that there is no precedent for warmest winters leading to hottest summers. Uh huh. What about warmest winters followed by warmest springs? Then what is summer like historically? Even though we are only five days into spring, I am fighting turning on the AC at night; I can generally tough out it well into May.
On the upside of the weather (which honestly I have loved except for the night heat and the open windows that give entrance to the clouds of pollen) is relaxing on the patio with Smudge and the birds after work, enjoying my book and wine. Watching plants growing at rocket speed. Middle-of-the-night thunderstorms, which I love. Early morning fog. And a rainbow! Actually, a double one. Rainbows are so rare here. I just happen to be out of the office on Tuesday and there it is--full arch, all seven colors. A reminder of the intention of the One Who is More; which reminds me of mine. And it evokes in me the importance of setting intentions, so the swiftly flying weeks don't pass unnoticed and uncounted for. And what I have learned about intention-setting is to set them just beyond comfortable. I am looking forward to April's intentions...or accomplishments.
March is a month when participants lose interest, so she purposely made the exercise humble. But, I thought, small isn't working for me right now; I need BIG, so I wasn't challenged and I have not been purposeful. I see now, though, that the month has been chock full of small happenings involving my word, even though I did not write them down and set an intention to make them happen. I am a list maker, and I often add things to my list after I do them and mark them off so it doesn't appear that nothing has been happening. Which makes it a list of accomplishments rather than intentions. So my OLW in March will be an accounting of achievements without premeditation. Sometimes our work comes from deep within and our brains are the last to know.
1 comment:
Love this! Balance the lament (guilt) for the failure of intentions with joy and celebration of unnoticed accomplishments! Great idea for me, and for someone else we both know . . .
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