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39.

Day 39_Book of Hours FULL

Today’s scribble is brought to you by Ralph Waldo Emerson.  I enjoy his essays.  There is something so light and comforting about being straightforward.  His essays often feel like an airy summer shawl I can wrap myself in.

The above passage may be hard to follow even with my attempts at pointing the way with arrows.

Here is what I added to my Book of Hours today:

“Write it on your heart
that every day is the best day in the year.
He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day
who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.

Finish every day and be done with it.
You have done what you could.
Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt crept in.
Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a new day;
begin it well and serenely, with too high a spirit
to be cumbered with your old nonsense.

This new day is too dear,
with its hopes and invitations,
to waste a moment on the yesterdays.

– Ralph Waldo Emerson, Collected Poems and Translations

This is what happens in my early morning solitude of meditation, writing and creating.

I write the beauty of the day on my heart, through my gratitude and my intentions.  Of course it is easier to believe that this day will be the “best day” before it begins, before you are in the thick of messes and expectations, before life unfolds unpredictably and your heart feels the tremors of traveling the ups and downs.

39_Book of Hours Close up

This morning a Kobo reader is found broken.  A child is in tears.  No one is to blame.  It was an accident.

I quickly check in with the writing on my heart from just a few hours ago. It is gone. Did I not write it in permanent marker? Was it a dry erase that I used by accident?  Have the words already faded away as I feel the rise in tension and frustration bubble up and seep through my veins, making its way to my centre, trying to form a hard fortress around this heart that was so open and full?

I sit at my dining room table and begin lecturing about the merits of taking care of one’s things as my hands cover my face.  I look up and see my child crying in the arms of my husband.  He is comforting her in a way that I should be.  At once I realize how much it sucks to break something.  But does she really need me to repeat how much it sucks?  Instead, can I own today and not let it be completely invaded with fret and anxiety?  

What if I didn’t have to wait until the end of the day to forget my blunders and absurdities?  What if I don’t have to be cumbered with my old nonsenseCan I do that right now?  Can this new day start again??

I take a deep breath and join them in a big embrace in the kitchen, not saying anything except that we will figure this out together.  We will find a way to fix it or replace it.  It’s done.  I love you.

And in that moment, the writings in my heart burn brightly through my chest.  Apparently, I didn’t use that permanent marker like I thought. I etched the words deep in my heart only to be revealed when I let go and lean into whatever the day holds for me.

That is how every day can be the best day in the year.

Day 39 Book of Hours Close Up2

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100 scribbles…hurriedly writing the here and now.

#100scribbles

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