Skis, boots, poles, helmet. Check.
“Focus on the seasonality of things” is a line from my #muse, and I’ve decided to take my character’s advice.
I am thankful for:
Because of Robert Frost.
Growing up in suburban Massachusetts, Frost’s poems transported me to the fields and forests of Vermont – the Vermont of my summers by the lake and my winters in the mountains, and the imaginary Vermont where I swore I would someday live.
My first poem was Fire & Ice, memorized from the pages of my eldest brother’s diary. (Otherwise, it wasn’t very interesting. No offense, Drew… and… uh. Sorry for reading your diary.)
Much later, in college, I flipped through The Complete Works, drifting from poem to poem. When I was lonely or anxious, they were a source of comfort.
He writes for me, speaks to me in the silence & beauty of the North – in crumbling stone walls and bending birches.
Buil Soil: A Political Pastoral is not his best work. It’s rather long. It’s rather of boring. I have no intention of ever memorizing it. But it contains some of the most beautiful fragments in literature.
The week before I set up this blog, a challenge was issued. Write a blog post every day.
I protested half-heartedly. “Every day? That’s ridiculous. I can’t come up with good content every day… And then to do a good job editing…!”
“It doesn’t have to be good writing!” was the retort.
Now, I’m keeping a blog. This blog. I don’t write in it every day… Because some days I chicken out. Some days I’m distracted or busy or I completely forget. But I’m remembering more often already. And growing more comfortable with the idea that I’m chatting away to myself where you can hear.
This is all good practice, and I realized that practice really takes practice. I wrote about it over here not to long ago, but I’m writing again to remind myself.
I’m impatient when it comes to matters of my being. I expect myself to do well the first time. To succeed immediately and move on to the next task. Sometimes, this approach is awesome. I get shit done. But, there’s something to be said for the slower approach. Imagine taking a bite of your favorite food (mine’s steak); do you close your eyes and savor the sensations? From your tongue and teeth to your nose… the fork heavy against your fingers…
Practice can be like that. It’s a way to be aware of the sensations… The peculiar way I hold my breath as a write, as if afraid of blowing the words off the screen on an exhale… How my voice seems to change if I write rough drafts on a computer versus paper, or even between types of pens.
It’s a really cool process, and reading other peoples’ resolutions only reminds me of my list of 25 things to do before I turn 26. I wish “practice” was on it.
Maybe that can be my New Years Resolution – to practice practice and to savor every bite.
What about you – what are you practicing right now/this week/this year?
Sidecountry Living 