No Good Very Bad

The nest has three floor to ceiling windows in the front. When I first moved in they were covered with blinds that I almost broke the first night. It's hard to explain how I did that but I did. They weren't just cheap blinds. Every morning I walked the width of the room opening the blinds and then the reverse in the evening. After a year or so one broke. 

I wanted smart blinds that I could raise and lower with my phone. I went to a place in town that sells them and had a long conversation with a really nice woman about what I wanted. She showed me books full of samples. The ones I liked the best were super costly. Of course. She very kindly told me about a guy who could fix my blind. And he did. A year later they broke again. So I got the ones I wanted. They have a honeycomb shape that blocks sound and light really well. They are purple. A very light diaphones purple, of course. The wall is a dark green/blue. The blinds and wall look so lovely together. I often sit in the chair by the window and just stare at those colors and feel happy. I feel grateful. My little nest makes me so happy. I feel spontaneously grateful, often.

I've never been enthusiastic about gratitude as a practice. I don't want to conjure it. There are days when gratitude is a child lost in the fog. I might be able to hear it but I can't see it. 

I am fierce about feeling what I feel when I feel it. 

These days feeling are hard to track. We are all exhausted, braced, uncertain. The election will be what it will be but we'll still have the two months after that and COVID is going no where. I slump. Sometimes for a short time. Sometimes for hours or days. Of course I do. Of course we all do. 

I'm buried in a book most of the time. 

Yesterday was no good very bad. Starting with a bunch of small problems so small it's embarrassing to document them. There were too many. I was too tired. I felt like everything was just too hard. The day didn't get much better. I didn't have the news on. I wasn't on social media. I checked in long enough to hear about the 345 children languishing at the border and the administration's inability to find their parents. That stirred up a wave of fury. But it wasn't that. It was more personal. By the end of the day my brain was spinning with thoughts. I couldn't get to sleep. 

I mean. It's just the way of things sometimes. 

Today is so so. Some problems that seemed to resolve. I'm still in the storm of rage about the children. And I'm probably going to watch the debate. 

The one thing I know. The one thing I count on, is a moment of awareness, in my nest. A moment that will calm the storm for a minute or two. I take comfort in the way colors randomly feed off each other. The rainbows on the wall pouring through the prisms on the chandelier. The fray on my rug. The lines of books on shelves. It doesn't change anything but it feels good.