from Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of Your Fist by Sunil Yapa

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Doing something, he had discovered, anything, however small, that contributed to your meaningfulness of self and surroundings—well that was the trick.

The trick to not feel like shit. P 6

The lack of snow is depressing. Slogging through these grey, sludgy days takes some effort. Snow or sun is fine, anything poised in the limbo is treacherous. This feels to me like a weird winter, warmer than average temperatures makes you long for the big fat flakes falling down and the need to curl up under a blanket; book in one hand cocoa in the other and a small furry cat/dog/bunny or guinea pig snuggled in next to you. That’s my preferred state of being in the winter months. But this year it feels like an extended November—The Winter That Wasn’t.

We’re distracting ourselves with activities and plans to get us through these next few months:

Someone here has requested a Gryffindor scarf, so a trip to the local yarn shop is in the works to find the perfect shades of maroon and gold. This mindless knitting is perfect for our mini movie marathons.

Doughnut Sundays are being tossed around as an idea for the new house. We have friends who host marshmallow nights in the summer, so this would be in the fall or spring. Basically whenever the weather is warm enough to let a group of us sit outside on the covered sunporch. I forsee a chance to catch up with friends, make our way through the newspaper with the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the house, or the kettle on the stove for a cuppa tea. Finally our esoteric, oddly shaped mug collection will have a real purpose.

My camera seems to be hibernating recently, I haven’t been using it as much as I would like to. I pulled it out to try and capture some of the beauty of these past their prime tulips. Once I started clicking that same rush came back to me. Not taking one photo, but forty. Walking around all sides. Comparing backgrounds and angles of height or lowness. Color vs black & white. When you show up, the muse can also make an appearance. She’s gotta meet you halfway though.

Hooray for events that take you out of the house. Yesterday M and I ushered at a circus performance. And tomorrow is a free author talk. There are a few musical concerts on the calendar featuring bands I adore. I’m so thankful they brave the threat of a New England winter to come and perform for those of us in need of a little musical inspiration.

And I’ll take inspiration wherever I can get it. With my camera, in the kitchen, in the company of friends, or lost in the pages of a good book— M next to me in bed caught up in his own fictional world.

I keep reminding myself that even a small baby step is still forward motion. Anything I can do right now, no matter how inconsequential is a blessing. I need to be moving against a stagnant state. Those tulips hung on longer than I thought they might. I found them to be beautiful even in their graceful decay. Someday there will be tulips and daffodils and more flowers than I can name or imagine growing outside and charming us with their presence. But right now they are asleep under the ground; dreaming of spring, but happy for the rest. Take delight in these days my dears, be quiet and restful and know that that too is a means of movement.

7 thoughts on “from Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of Your Fist by Sunil Yapa

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