There is work to do, and lots of it. But first, there is my favorite coffee, in my favorite mug, sitting in my favorite chair, facing east, while the sun rises in the place where there are no windows, but casting a rosy golden glow that creeps up toward the bluing sky in a corner of the place where there IS a window.
There is so much work to do. So many things that can only be done by me, or so it seems. But first, there is a cat who mews quietly at my feet, to whom attention shall be paid. For her sake and for mine.
My head spins, considering all that this day will bring. But first, first I shall sit here in the early morning silence, girding my spirit, my will, and my resiliance here, with this cup of coffee, cup of sunshine, and cup of silence.
My heart aches as I find myself letting too much in, unable to process it all and turn it back out into the world in a way that makes sense, even if only to me. It aches because this is what I think I am able to do best: gather, sort, present. But every attempt lately has been thwarted by too many others wishing to do my work as I do it. Sometimes, I do not play well with others.
But first, there is this: the gathering and sorting and presenting of my own heartaches and desires, my own conflicts with the work I have signed up to do as it conflicts and deflects me from the work I’m certain I’m called to.
There are deadlines to meet, that should have been met yesterday, but first, there is reflection and thanksgiving for the lovely day given me by my husband and my children in honor of my birth–compressed into just a few short hours, but done with such kindness that despite the squabble over the cake cutting (there was cake–and I didn’t make it!), I felt loved, honored, treasured in a way my whole being needed despite my forgetting how very much it did.
There are tears to shed over this incredibly stressful time in my work life. But first, there are tears to shed over the things I am missing here, in my family life.
But first, there is much work to be done.