Day 370: Happily Fickle

I wanted to retire this site, but I've been aching to blog. There is so much to be grateful for and I am filled with it every day. I spend my days thinking 'if I was blogging, I'd be able to mention this...'. 

And I miss my gratitude practice. It makes such a happy difference to what I do and say and feel and to where my attention goes. That's not to say that my attention plummets to the greyest of lows when I'm not doing it, but gratitude magnifies the small things that make me happy and gives them weight. Not weight - they're still light. Clout? Kudos? Vim? All these words are delightfully wrong, which brings me to my next point:

I miss writing every day, or if not every day, then most days. I love it. My fingers love it as much as my mind. I love it with my heart. It's another form of play. Do I like these two words alongside each other? Does that word make the other one look small, or does it frame it and bring out its best colours? Is it pleasing to me? Am I a little bit delighted by what I'm doing? This is quite detached from its objective quality - it's to do with the enjoyment of the process and its product equally.

So, in delightfully inefficient form, I'm writing this post to say that I'll probably start writing posts again, when I want to, when it pleases me. Even if it pleases me this weekend, I'm away and computerless, so I won't write then. I'll be thinking about it, though. You can bet on that.

Neither Lilley nor Daniel. Good, though.

In the meantime, I'm soooooo sooooo sooooo grateful for Lilley and Daniel for having me in their lovely home, for feeding me power drinks and raw porridge with frogspawny seeds in; for helping me stay vegetarian and healthy (I haven't dreamt of steak since Austria, or liver, or even black pudding. I've watched steak being eaten, all raw and bloody like I always used to love it, and I haven't felt the slightest pang). 

Thanks for all the yoga joy - sweaty ashtanga in a Leeds loft, helping out with classes at Peacock Tree and with Yoga Bunnies and Yoga for Teens, private pranayama with a tinge of sweet nostalgia and a nice, straight back. Such lovely people in my life, new and old, and all over everywhere. 


There are too many things. I need to be up all crackish again tomorrow, so my words are numbered and my minutes too. Hello, though. Welcome back (?) I've missed you.