It's like, I can't believe 2009 feels like such a recent time but it's actually the better part of a decade behind us. And also, it's hard to believe how much has happened, been documented, been felt and experienced over the past 11 months. I can think back to January 1 this year and it feels like only yesterday, but I can think also about how many high highs and low lows have happened since then—how is 11 months enough time for all that to have happened in? And also, it's hard to think about how this year is almost at its close and I haven't done much in the way of getting to where I want to go.
I can't say, of course, that this year has been a wash. It's the year I finally earned my RYT-200 teaching certificate and became a yoga teacher—something I've literally been talking about since college. It's the year I met David. It's the year I fell completely apart and started to pick the pieces back up, forming a new picture of life along the way.
It makes me think of a quote told to me by Steph during one of my particularly steep valleys this year: "There are years that ask questions, and years that answer. We truly need both because that's what life is." (Zora Neale Hurston)
That's what life is: a collection of questions and answers. A collection of daily movements and happenings, of laughs and tears, of hugs and fights, of highs and lows. Of moments at the breakfast table and glances across dinner plates. Of alarm clocks and bus schedules and train tickets and doctor's appointments. A collection of little things and big things, and big things that make little things seem so little and little things that show us just how big the big things are.
Sometimes the mundane things that make up the everyday aren't interesting or noteworthy at all, the "life lately" updates and the "currently" verbs. But I have a thought: They can be the things that stabilize, that help us keep equilibrium when balancing on one hand while juggling knives. Some of them stay constant because, hopefully through all our ups and downs, there are some parts of us that stay constant: things like how we laugh and love and where we find comfort.
burning | Flannel and Marshmallow Fireside
writing | cover letters, still or again; job applications; christmas cards; love notes
reading | the Harry Potter series on audiobook, and not much in physical book form
eating | soup, pretty much daily, and candy in between... it's the most wonderful time of the year?
listening to | the new John Mayer and similar, slow strummy sounds
planning | to plan. I am wary of making plans for outcomes that haven't been reached yet, but I can't help but fantasize about new job things, new apartment things, possible vacation things...
watching | Gilmore girls: A Year in the Life. I loved it, and I'm kind of weirded out by the people absolutely freaking out about how much they hated it and how depressed it made them. But maybe that's just me
drinking | red wine and hot apple cider
running | a few miles, a few days a week. A big training cycle is scheduled to start in a couple weeks, and while I'm looking forward to it, I know it's going to be an intense couple of months. I am trying to maintain a base fitness level but not burn out before I begin the long road to a second 26.2
There's not much notable about life lately, other than maybe this: it's going on. So many times this year I thought the sky was about to fall, the world was caving in, I didn't know how I would make it through. But the fact that I'm sitting here watching Gilmore Girls with a Flannel candle burning on the coffee table and a glass of red wine sitting next to me is proof that life continues to move forward, or at least continues to beat on, even in the years that seem to ask more questions than they give answers.
Linking up with Kristen.