I am in the process of moving, so I have the pleasure of distracting myself by looking through my old journals. Here is something I wrote in my business journal in August, 2014:
My Typical Day
I wake up before my 7am alarm. I have three clients scheduled today, starting at 11am. I go to some wooded trail or path near water and I run. I meet my partner at some outdoor space. We stretch together and then have leisurely coffee/breakfast. I go to my practice and work with my clients. I dance, either practice at home or in class. I go to a coffee shop to write or I spend time teaching a class/workshop either about oncology massage or how to get in touch with your creativity. I meet a friend or my partner for dinner. We eat outdoors and enjoy a good conversation and fresh food with lots of vegetables–something we made together. There is loving touch. I go to sleep early in a quiet room with windows open to clean air and blinds that will let in the first bits of morning.
I wrote that paragraph in response to an exercise in Be a Free Range Human by Marianne Cantwell. As I re-read it, I felt a growing rush of excitement. My life now is getting ever closer to my imagined description of that day. Until I found that paragraph this morning, I completely forgot that I had ever written it. It probably left my mind within a week of writing it. At that time, I was just setting up my first private practice, still managing grief from a recent divorce, and basically using the “just keep moving” approach to life.
For a while now, I have been able to deliberately plan and direct my life. I have had the good fortune to make decisions based on reflection and deep thought, rather than panic or fear. Finding this paragraph feels like confirmation. Confirmation that there is an enduring thread of intention in my life. Sometimes I don’t see it, but it is there. When I can take the time to find quiet, and tune in to the things that feed me, I know I am following that thread.
Of course I don’t predict the future. And there are still days when I barely experience the present. Then I find little clues like this that remind me — it’s only chaos if I’m not paying attention.