Steeping

Shocking as it is to admit, well over 3/4 of my life was spent doing things at the last moment.  It fit my seat-of-the-pants style.  

It fit into my style, but not into my life.  Turns out that I'm lovely Earl Grey leaves, meant to be well-steeped before being presented.  

 

How I love these realizations that keep tumbling out of id, into my consciousness!  Getting all these delightful gifts, like the Universe is throwing me a shower as I take the stage for my 3rd act.  

Sometimes, the gift shows up in an AH HA! realization, like figuring out that I do my best when I take time with a project, give it space to develop beyond my original expectations, to breathe fresh life into itself, to take me in surprising directions.

Back in my younger days - aka pre-John - my shelves were filled with books that caught my attention, but which I rarely read.  When I hauled them off to the library's book sale, most were in pristine shape, with nary a page turned.  

In my here & now, my books - at least the non-fiction, which is mostly what I read these days - are filled with underlines & all sorts of cryptic notations, corners turned down & pages folded over.  

My reading routine is downright laborious.  First, I read it through, underlining & making notations, leaving marks in the margins.  If the book grabs me, it's read through a second time, this go 'round numbering the sections that especially speak to me.  Then, I drag out a comp book & start writing.  

Not every book gets to the 2nd round & even fewer make it to the journaling stage.  Has to really connect with me to get that far.  

When it does, amazing things happen.  As a reader, there's the author & there's me.  When I journal a book, a third entity makes its presence known.  

How glorious to be 63, wondering how many more "Gee, why didn't I think of that decades ago?" moments are ahead of me.  

 

Blessed with a priceless gift from my mother - her awakening in her late 80s to being courageous, bold, & (most surprising to her) okay with being vulnerable.  That last was a real shocker to Mom.  Up to those last years, she'd protected herself mightily against being vulnerable.  

I've always condition any statement about Mom not letting herself be vulnerable with, "except with Dad."  But it dawns on me that I have no way of knowing if she let her guard truly down even with him.  I don't know.  Sure hope so.  I know he would have been proud for how she stood up for herself - including with me - over those amazing final years.  

If I learned how important is for me to steep, Mom learned how important it was to see & not be afraid of what she saw.

My past week has been filled with goosebumps, reading (devouring) Darren Hardy's The Compound Effect, this month's featured selection for Be Well Bakery's young adult book club.  One of the staff waxed rhapsodic about it & he was spot on in his praise.  The book's short length belies its POWER.  

 

Over the same week, finished my 2nd read of Brene Brown's Rising Strong & started journaling.  This is my 3rd read through & am still bowled over with how it resonates.  Eerie, how often the wording she uses could just as easily describe my own deepest, truest life purpose.  Journaling, there's Brene, there's me & there's a whole different voice that shapes itself, by itself.    

 

There are many times I want to put my life on fast forward.  But then I remember the importance of a good long steep, allowing the full flavor to release & build.  Take a deep breath, pull on a warm cozy sweater, get comfy & let things take a natural, slow & measured pace.