How when I let my cat inside in the morning, he skims his body alongside my ankle, practically the only time he’ll make physical contact with me all day because he knows I’m about to feed him.
I know I loved the morning coffee, but I didn’t know there would be a desire for more in the afternoon, and that sometimes I’d give in to that the way I’d give in to another game of solitaire on my phone, which I thought was me wasting time, but which my friend Catherine says is me simply finding another way to rest.
I love all the green leaves from the trees outside my living room – a wall of green that enters my house – and how today I fantasized that if I were dying I’d want to bring my bed into the living room so I could watch the trees and take all that green inside of me.
And at night, how, when I finally turn out the lights, I make my body into a comma, bringing my legs into my belly and pulling the pillow under my head.
Or the way my hand moves instantly to my chest in the morning, a silent prayer to move slowly, to not tumble toward the list or check email too early – an attempt at keeping things fuzzy and unassembled and a little closer to the dream.
I loved the idea of moving the woodpile.
And I loved the idea of starting the mosaic project, as well as the collage project, but I didn’t move toward any of it. Instead I took a handful of chocolate chips and looked at my phone as if I had all the time in the world.
And saying no. And putting myself first. Or at least including myself in the equation.
Even disappointing people, which had scared me for so long, but which now I’d now begun to find just a little thrilling. The way I practiced saying out loud to myself before a date with a friend, “I’m sorry you feel disappointed, I’m sorry you feel disappointed,” and how I had to get comfortable with how those words sounded coming out of my mouth.
I didn’t know how much I like changing my mind just because I could, how I’d suggested a date to the man after our phone conversation, but how in the morning it seemed like a terrible idea, so I took it back. And the date I had with someone else who texted a few hours before the meeting, “not feeling social,” he wrote, and which delighted me because it taught me that not feeling social was a completely reasonable reason to break a date.
I didn’t realize how much I’d come to need and respect my own time. How obligation and doing the right thing has come to feel outworn, and something I’d done my whole life, and how ready I am to let the chips fall, to let people feel what they feel and for me to get acquainted with the word no, which can feel like the end of the world to a woman who has been entirely accommodating her whole life; sucking it in, swallowing it whole, overriding what her belly was telling her and making it work.
I didn’t know I loved my freedom as much as I do. Moving wordlessly around this house, turning on music, opening up doors and windows, lighting candles and incense as though I owned this place, as though this life was mine.
Inspired by the poem, Things I Didn’t Know I Loved, by Nazim Hikmet
Listen to Laurie reading the post …
I love *this*
I feel like I wrote this, accept for the parts about dating, and the parts with the writing. I love your writing so much more than mine but you give me something to aspire to.
I do too,Therese
I love this so much. Especially the last line. Absolutely beautiful.
Yes, the last line….made me chuckle. Let’s own it xo
Yes I love this too especially the last paragraph
Ditto…
That last paragraph…..oh yes, it clinches it all
I love the way you capture moments with memorable, relatable prose, inspiring thoughts to ponder and write off of…
Yes to all of this Laurie! ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Thanks for sharing this Laurie – I hear you and your unique voice as I read what you’ve written❤️
It’s been a dozen years since I first felt the hyperpresent realization that I do not *have to* do anything after surviving cancer treatment. I hear it in your saying No, change of mind, overriding belly wish to fit it all through. Thank you for your reminder of permission to find what I love and do that 💕
It’s been a dozen years since I first felt the hyperpresent realization that I do not *have to* do anything after surviving cancer treatment. I hear it in your saying No, change of mind, overriding belly wish to fit it all in. Thank you for your reminder of permission to find what I love and do that 💕…”filling myself with all the green.”
Wonderful piece – settling into yourself…
I love especially this: “keeping things fuzzy and unassembled and a little closer to the dream.”
Yes.
“In every moment do exactly what we feel or think to do.” We are living out of our wants (not shoulds) (not seeking behaviour) here, and it is RADICAL.
Love you always, all ways,
S
What a lovely reminder to us all – especially those of us who have spent a lot of time and effort making others feel good about their choices – that we have choices too and we should make them to suit our needs, our bellies, our hearts. ~thank you.
“Overriding what her belly was telling her…” how that entire paragraph resonates down and through the marrow of my bones. Steady work to stay aware of & away from that life long habit of “outworn” obligation. You’ve captured this beautifully! Thank you.
….. let the chips fall, to let people feel what they feel …..
I’m feeling you hear – how also to let myself feel what I feel when they are disappointed – getting to the other side of THAT 😉
Thanks for your truth-telling!
Yes sweetheart —whatever you want to go and whenever. With every option available should you change your mind. Love this. And you. 🤍
Ugh. I know better to try and write before coffee!! Whatever you want to DO!!
LOVE this…yay, Laurie! Finally!! ;))
Beautifully written. Yes the last line as everyone said, but the lead up with all of the beautiful things in life that we so often overlook or take for granted. Putting your deathbed in the living room so you can look at the green. Love.
“sucking it in, swallowing it whole, overriding what her belly was telling her and making it work.” Your words remind me to take life in small bites — and not feel I have to ingest it all to be ok — nor do I have to swallow my words and feelings, not giving them the air time they need. Such honest writing, Laurie! Thank you.
What a perfect description of recalculating and having the insight and courage to lean into your own needs with respect. Thanks as always
“…as though this life was mine….” imagine what happens when she realizes this is true! I love, love this line and it is a reminder, of course, that it is true for me and for all!
So beautiful and true, and somehow it makes me sad. I still have a hard time saying no to activity, sitting with my own restless mind, my personal wavelength vibrating more toward interdependence. Unexpectedly, I’ve become person who often feels most whole, valued, radiant, alive, in the presence of another. Sometimes that Other is You. Thank you for the many, many times you’ve said Yes.
Thank you for writing this beautiful piece Laurie and sharing it with all of us. I love it and hold it in the palm of my hands both tenderly and fiercely, and howl a mighty yes to its truth. I will read it every day to remind myself to come home to my life.
Your prose is a comfortable salve. Thank you.
Ahhhh…and Peace settles in on the wings of Love! .. and fills every crack and crevice, every open space – high and low. The Peace covers us .. and sticks like glue! …As we glide through every new moment of newness! NJN
Moved my heart into more openness and powerful trust in the here and now. Thank you again.