It is a good day to stay in bed.
I know I say this most days, but it is especially true today.
And I haven't actually been back in bed that long.
I woke up at 6:30
Read some of Tolstoy's Calendar of Wisdom
it's like a secular devotional, Tolstoy collected sayings from writers and various books of wisdom and ancient philosophers and collated them together by topic and then divided them into a year of daily readings. I don't read it everyday, but I am trying to build that discipline. Plus, I like good quotes.
One of the quotes from today is "Do not say words you do not feel, lest your soul be blackened with darkness"—from the Book of Divine Thought
Then I also read a chapter from Biography of Silence by Pablo d'Ors. They are short contemplative thoughts on meditation by a Spanish monk.
My favorite line from today's reading: the bitterness or sweetness of life does not depend on reality...but rather on us, only us. Thanks to meditation I have discovered that no burden is mine if I do not hoist it onto my shoulders."
I am trying to be in the discipline of reading a short bit on contemplation or mysticism or wisdom every morning. I have reminded myself again that I am an Atheist Monk (maybe the only? I am not concerned) and I need my liturgy, my holy writ.
And because I have no creed to cling to, I get to read anything, consider everything, and hold on to what's good. Which, I think, is the case with any good contemplative, no matter the tradition they hail from.
Then I pulled myself away from the warm comfort of my own body heat and soft fabric, stretched my arms long up as high as they'd go and wiggled every inch of my naked body as I adjusted to the cold of the rainy morning.
I pulled on my grey sweatpants (for the ladies) and gave my belly a good scratch as I enjoyed the warm sensation of a good pee on a cold morning.
I did some yoga from YouTube. Fourth time this week. My shoulders and arms are sore in new ways, but it's a good sore. The soreness of muscles rustily coming back to awareness and functionality.
It is the soreness of slowly accumulating strength. A refreshing kind of pain compared to the ache of slow deterioration that I normally and currently still feel.
But progress, god damn it.
Bit by bit.
Willpower is a muscle. You can overwork it, stretch it, strain it.
But you can build it in increments. You can become stronger.
I am trying.
After yoga, I walked the dog. Aspiring to be one with the Tao, I allow him to decide the journey. We follow where he sniffs and find ourselves frequently at some rocky ledge above the river or contemplating a peculiar pile of leaves for several minutes.
This idea came from my roommate. They call it a "sniffari," it apparently activates the brain of the pup in healthy ways and tires him out more quickly. And I will say it is fun to watch him, brows furrowed in concentration as he investigates a bush or a bit of grass.
Besides, I like to people watch and enjoy a slow pace, so I have no problem letting him sniff all over the place.
(Also, I am 85% certain that I caught an attractive young jogger checking out my dick as she ran by. Grey sweatpants. Makes me feel like Jon Hamm and shit.)
It started to rain on our walk but we made it back in time to watch the clouds really start rolling in. I made tea and read some poetry from a journal I am trying to get the nerve to submit to.
I haven't been able to submit anything or write much of anything in so long, but I am trying.
It's like a muscle.
Bit by bit.
Just like this bit of writing, which is here at the bottom of the day's list of activities so far.
Right at the precipice of the hill, just before I can see what comes next for me today.
(likely a slide down into the valley of blankets and movies I've seen a dozen times before. But that's okay. I must rest when I must rest. To deny that is to do damage.)
I am also adding little things to my routine.
Saturdays, I clean the house.
Wednesdays I clean my room.
Mondays I do the practical bill paying shit
All of this is so basic. It's stuff that people just do.
But God it is a struggle for me.
At least this year.
And the year before that.
It's like I have been atrophied.
Like waking from some coma.
Bit by bit.
Don't stretch the muscle too far or it will break
This is the only way.
This is the only way out.
1:05 p.m. - 2020-11-29
Recent entries:
40 - 2021-01-19
Milestone - 2021-01-02
The Pastor's Daughter - 2020-12-21
Love in the Time of Corona - 2020-12-08
A little whining about the stress of the future - 2020-12-07
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