good today

dispatch 72

Hey friends. Happy Solstice. Gentle reminder to get outside today and engage the time-honored Midsummer traditions of terrifying men and singing songs about little frogs while dancing around a may pole!

Today is just a little half-baked reflection shared because I am having a really good day, and I want to mark those glimmer moments when they happen, without waiting to be polished.

good today

Yesterday, I felt hopeful. Today, I feel good. In therapy I am learning to reflect on what good feels like in my brain and in my body. I am learning how to sit into these moments when they come instead of trying to cling to them too tightly, losing the present in the future’s fear of loss.

Today, “good“ feels grounded, creative, excited for the day. It feels like joy in choosing my coffee cup, and in cutting tiny, perfect strawberries for my oatmeal. It feels like a lightness of body, energy without mania, like a full-body stretch after sitting still for too long. It feels like the “Oh my god, have you seen how magical the world is?” energy that I have been missing for so long.

The sun is shining, my fridge is full of greens from the first CSA box of the summer season, there is a long weekend ahead. There is a sense of shift and possibility in my career space. I finally took down the builder—grade cabinets in the bathroom that I’ve hated since we moved in. Yesterday, a small turtle dug three holes in our driveway, seeking a place for her eggs. Progress, hope, and new beginnings are showing up everyday.

When my grandmother died a few weeks ago, I was worried it would topple me. And in moments, it has. I had finally been clawing my way back to some level of baseline joy after over a year of grief. Not well, but better. Though she was 92, her death felt brutal and unfair to her, to me, to our family. But in some ways, it’s like it’s woken me up.

My grandmother lived her life. Every last moment of those 92 years. She changed the shape and texture of her days so many times through divorce, marriage, motherhood, community, song, love, illness, and all of the many gifts and trials of a long life. But she always had a knack for resilience, for continuing to notice what was good even when it was hard to find. I want to honor her by channeling and developing these parts of myself.

Right now, it’s working. I’m feeling connected to what I want to connect to, unbothered by what is not important to me. I feel my creativity waking up just below the surface. Relationships that have brought me nothing but sadness and disappointment are loosening their grip. I have been writing again in small ways. I just got my own copy of The Summer Book which I plan to read barnacled to my porch rocking chair.

I don’t have a big, beautiful takeaway, just that in this moment, as we mark the Solstice and despite the loss and the devolving state of the world, I am happy. I am grateful for the care and understanding I have received as I’ve fallen apart and become something new. And I feel hope for the very first time in a long time.

What I’ve been watching, reading, and doing lately:

• I am feeling back into creative hobbies beyond writing (cross-stitch, paint by numbers, doodling…things I don’t have to be “good” at or take myself seriously for!) and have been having some trouble getting started. I’d love to hear your ideas or advice on how to get started when you can’t seem to pick an entry point.

I hope that wherever you are in the world, you are finding your joy glimmers. Before you close this page, take a moment to do something sweet for yourself, whether that means drinking a glass of water, dancing to a song, or just taking a deep breath.

in solidarity,

lisa