*ends radio silence*

Sometimes I have a hard time balancing motivation with contentment. I want to have a game plan, and I believe in having goals to work towards and accomplish. I want to get my doctorate one day. I want to have a child one day. I want to visit all seven continents. I want to be my own boss. I have lists of goals scribbled in notebooks and saved to my documents and pinned to my bulletin board. I believe in goals, I believe in lifelong learning and I believe that self-motivation and embracing your individuality are keys to success. But what are these goals if not for each other? When a few weeks have gone by and I’m overwhelmed by my to-do list, I know I’ve lost sight of why I’m busy and instead I’ve just been. I don’t want to be someone who is so involved with where I’m going that I don’t appreciate where I am.

There is a passage in Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince where the prince comes across a railway switchman: a man who spends his days sorting out travelers as they rush back and forth between their destinations. As a train rushes by the Little Prince questions the switchman about the passengers inside:

"Were they not satisfied where they were?" asked the little prince. 

"No one is ever satisfied where he is," said the switchman. 

And they heard the roaring thunder of a third brilliantly lighted express. 

"Are they pursuing the first travelers?" demanded the little prince. 

"They are pursuing nothing at all," said the switchman.  "They are asleep in there, or if they are not asleep they are yawning. Only the children are flattening their noses against the windowpanes." 

It is easy to grow weary of traveling if we avoid responding to the diurnal beauty of where we currently are, and the originality of each interaction. I was driving to the post office this morning and I stopped to let a pedestrian cross the road.  He had cumulus-cloud hair and friendly eyes and he held his coat tight around him in protection from the cold. We watched eight other cars pass by before someone in the other lane stopped for him, and as the old man gave me a big wave and a thankful smile I felt instantly guilty. So often I am one of the eight cars- so determined to get to where I’m going that I miss the person right beside me...

Where are we going to so fast?

white magic

I smelled spring today. Whenever I smell spring I think of the crocuses that so suddenly appeared in the flowerbeds outside of the dance studio each March. Robins and crocuses are a much better promise than anything from a groundhog. This never-ending New England winter has finally begun to drip off the trees and patter through the drainpipes and the parking lot is an archipelego that requires careful footwork. I look forward to the rainy season but admit there is something significant about the city the morning after a blizzard--when I half expect to hear the bells of the White Witch's sleigh as I hold my breath to keep from polluting the silence. 

woods-ing

            The woods bring back memories of playing Wind in the Willows with my cousins, and I hold my breath to hear the silence that fills the trees. Nicole and I find mushrooms. I poke them with a stick and christen myself Mushroom Explorer. In the distance there is children's laughter, and we turn a bend to see a little boy trip as he runs down the hill after his older brother.  He flies into the air like Superman and crashes in a pile of brittle Oak leaves. He quickly brushes himself off and then he is in pursuit again. I smile at his earnestness; toddlers even stumble with zeal.

life lately

         I look up and it is September 18th and I haven't blogged since August.  Instead I've been spending time with my little sister before she makes the big move to England, and I've visited some friends in New York and once I even rode my bike all day long.  I've been cooking a lot, and eating a lot, and reading a lot.  I spoke French with a woman I met in the coffee shop, and I mailed a letter to a friend who moved to Scotland.  I watched my friends play rugby and they beat Harvard!  I celebrated with beers afterwards.  I went to the park yesterday and I lay on the grass and noticed the dip-dyed persimmon-colored leaves on the top of the elm tree.  I read Lolita and almost fell asleep but the sun dropped behind the mountains and my jacket could no longer substitute for a pillow so I pulled it on and packed up my things and rode my bike home. 

snapshots of daily life

Little things that make me smile:
- Fresh flowers on a sunlit windowsill in a clean apartment
- Training for a 50 mile ride I'd like to do in July
- A new jumpsuit perfect for summer barbeques and picnics in the park
- Adding records to my collection, and spending the muggy nighttimes listening to them

What has been making you smile lately?

photos taken with my iPhone