It’s been quite some time since I wrote publicly on the ol’ blog. Are blogs even a thing anymore? Either way, last year (2019), I set some intentions to write outside of my usual scheduled writing for work. AAaaand I noticed that this intention did not necessarily come to fruition in the way I expected. Meaning, I didn’t do crap for extracurricular writing, and was too burnt out on work stories to write any of my own. That’s the reality of it, and I’m sure much of that will happen again this year. It truly is a balancing act when it comes to your own writing versus the writing you must accomplish for a weekly deadline.
So, as the new year dawns… no! As the new DECADE dawns, I am going to set up these intentions with some umphf. That’s a word. If it isn’t, it will be in 2020.
I found some creative writing prompts from Bloom Creative Planners (they’re my favorite planner company, check them out at http://www.bloomplanners.com), and am starting with their first prompt:
Think about your previous day; write down what you saw, what you did, what you heard.
It was a beautiful Sunday, really. Chris and I rose with the dawn to get him to work on time. The town was still asleep, still so quiet, and still lit up from the recent Christmas holiday. The streets and sidewalks were slick with rain, and the colors of the holiday lights spattered across the pavement in a kaleidoscope of colors. As I dropped Chris off at work, I admit, I was pretty excited to spend the day at the house to myself. I really am a fairly quiet person, and today, everything just seemed to say Katie, enjoy your peace and quiet. Relinquish in the solitude. Go all out. Can do, universe. Can do. Once I got home, I started a pot of coffee, let the gurgle of the percolator echo throughout the quiet house as the scent of fresh brewed coffee began to linger through the rooms.The crunch of a metal spoon through coffee grounds, the shuffle of a paper coffee filter, the slow run of the kitchen faucet as steam rises in front of the kitchen windows. I glance over into the nearby park and see a somewhat blurred image of the snow, untouched. Across its fields, I imagine it in spring, blooming with flowers and child laughter. The coffee percolates some caffeine into the glass pot – drip, ploop, gurgle gurlgle, ploop, tittle tittle tittle tittle. Just as the pot begins to fill, I pull out my favorite pink coffee mug and fill it up, mixing it with cold half and half cream to pull some of the heat (and bitterness) out of my morning cuppa. I sat down on the couch, opened our front windows to gaze on the morning that was rising in the sky, and just sat there, quietly, sipping my coffee, stroking the kitties, allowing my mind and body to be at peace in the present moment.
What a gift it is to be mindful of your surroundings – to be able to quiet your mind enough to appreciate the smallest things. The sound of clocks ticking, the pitter patter of rain on the roof, the soft little footsteps of cats on stairs.
It was still only 6 a.m., and everything around me was just singing me to sleep – the warm coffee, the cold weather, the slate-colored sky, even the sleepy cluster of cats. So, I retreated back to my room, where soft pillows and warm blankets welcomed me back in a big, gentle hug. I don’t think I slept anymore, but I rested. I let my mind wander to happy things, big questions, ideas and plans, and just admired the day as it continued to greet me.
When the sun began trying to push up above the horizon, the sky chose to stay a muted pallet of color with grays and blues of the winter season. Snow began to slowly dance with the rain and it gently filled the sky and the earth with a gentle pattering, almost as if it was singing to you specifically to stay inside. I did. I took my time rising up out of bed, sweet little Opal was nestled and purring at the top of my head on my pillow. She’s been incredibly snuggly lately, and I can’t deny how much I appreciate the affection, especially on those dreary, low-lit winter days.
I rose slowly and intentionally; stretching each muscle in my arms and legs, twisting my ankles and elbows, popping my hips and phalanges. My feet touched the warm floor – our heating vent is right by my side of the bed, so I get warm gusts of dry air all night long; both a blessing and a curse there – and I felt the solidity of the day in my toes as they pushed against the hardwood and brought me, vertically, into the day. The weight of the day was pressed into each joint in my body as I shuffled towards the bathroom. Light shined brightly into the windows of the bathroom, but it was still grey – still muted. I pulled the faucet of the shower to the hottest setting as I plugged the tub and began removing my pajamas.
Lighting the candles in the bathroom and setting up some music to play, steam began rolling off of the bath as I adjusted the nozzle of the waters; taking my time, feeling the peace of the day, content in the pace I was already making.
A fogged mirror and plenty of bubbles gurgling up the sides of the tub. Bach played softly into the steam and candlelight. I removed my robe, placed it on the hook and walked over to the water, this time, giving my toes glory for the greatness they carry so often. I give grace to my knees and my shoulders as they all glide into the bubbling hot waterfall. I immediately let each of them go into the water, my body fully relaxed and warming up to the water and the day. As I sipped my coffee here and there through the shower curtain, I thought about the projects ahead of me throughout the day and it felt, with each sip, my strength and stamina were being built to completion. Perhaps it was the caffeine. Perhaps it was the increased blood flow due to the hot water. It could have been anything, but suddenly, I was jolted to life with a fresh perspective, profound self-positivity, and an itch to get things accomplished. The soft piano music began to play a more up-beat rhythm on my random music generator app on my phone, and suddenly I was conducting an orchestra of bubbles! My arms waved in the air as the sound crescendoed and decrescendoed, my hair was stuck to my neck, shoulders and back as I flailed this way and that through the music. I was alive, and my body was finally warmed up from the wintery rest. I was ready for the day. I pushed the faucet off and listened to the drain slurp the water and bubbles down its narrow pipe.
I felt the soft bath rug under my feet and the soft towel against my cheeks as I dried off, still jazzed and eager to have at the still early hours of the Sunday ahead of me. I toss my hair in front of me like a heavy metal headbanger and twist my towel around it. As I stand upright again, I don my purple robe, glance at myself in the mirror, and willingly wander into the rest of my Sunday refreshed, awake, and alive.