The quiet season has begun.
November and December are busy months in the everyday, but they are quieter months as far as blogging goes. During the last two months of the year (particularly November), it’s normal for me to average a post or two a week. Part of this phenomenon is taking a break after the madness that is 31 Days. Part of this phenomenon is due simply to my writing being directed elsewhere.
Mostly, though, I’m just more reflective during these days. While reflection tends to make me more melancholy, it also makes me more…me. When the weather starts (finally and hallelujah) getting cooler, my soul cools down its surface angst and mindless busyness as well. I am more content to get slow. I am more content to savor small things.
I am more content – happy, even – to focus on simple things and to focus on one thing at a time. Other times of the year, my mind would be focused on what is coming up at work or my to-do list. Those things are there, but they stay at work and on the list until it is their turn. That leaves focus for important things, like inviting the spider family who keeps trying to come in from the cold to hang out in the tree outside instead.
[Seriously, spiders. Just feel free to make that whole tree your home. You don’t want to come in my house anyway. It smells like tea tree oil and lemon (and, coming soon, cinnamon and peppermint). You would hate that, spiders.]
I am more content to go to bed early – and to get up early – to read.
A good predictor of my mental state is whether or not I am reading or writing. If I’m not reading or writing (or, God help us all, if I’m doing neither), I am not myself. All the ordinary, wonderful things become just more annoying things on my list to get through and check off. I forget this so easily. I am relieved to be in a season of remembering and watching again.
I am re-reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s An Altar in the World.* I am reading it a chapter a night and making room for it to sink in. It’s no coincidence that I’m taking more walks, drinking more tea, and seeing the daily activities that I often view as chores as spiritual disciplines.