I need to take my own advice. So good about helping everyone else to think and process, I often leave myself behind.
This morning I received a text that turned into a phonecall that ended with laughter and greater curiosity. It caused me to pull out some old writing, sketching, and dream journaling I had done and read and laugh and think, huh.
It is a gift to have those in your life who were there with you, wherever there was, and who are willing to go back there with you when needs be. To be able to share in safety without having to explain or over-explain is golden.
This was one of my people who just gets it.
As I sent a picture of a dream sketch I had made with this person in it and received comments back, the conversation ended with me texting, Enough about me and my dreams. Pour coffee and ponder yours.
That is what I needed, as well, reminding me that I often speak to others what I need for myself. So that is where this post finds me, pondering dreams and other parts of me, and writing with my poured coffee.
The gift of the slow Saturday morning gets eclipsed by all of the shoulds running through my head. Instead of resting in gratefulness for the space, I rush around trying to fill it. Sometimes just sitting in my PJs on an unmade bed with a laptop open at 9:50 on a Saturday morning is an act of defiance to all that threatens to bind me.
So that is where I am. Pondering with my poured coffee. Grateful for a partner engaging the kids and their chores so I can be on the other side of a closed door, I write.