Monday Moanings - April 8, 2019

It's raining. It's pouring...

The room seemed dark this morning,  even though the bedside clock read 7:50am. I stretched and yawned then just lay in the gloomy light and listened. Rain on the roof announced itself, "Pitter patter, pitter patter."

Then another sound reached my awakening ears. Robins singing their hearts out,  "Cheer-up, cheer-up."

While it may seem like just another Monday, there is something beautiful about this morning. It is raining not snowing, it is a warm PLUS 9°C at 9am and the birds are singing.

Spring is awakening...

©2019 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - September 24, 2018

Well, here I sit at the top of the last week in September wondering just where the month went! No point in languishing in the past, it's time to kick off into the week, beginning with a blog post. But, what to write? Some days fishing is a good metaphor for my writing process - just throw out a line and see what's biting. Let me give that a try.

A grand overhand cast sends the line out over the placid lake of my mindfulness. I watch it drop into the water, ripples fanning out in perfect concentric circles of potential. With my lips pursed and breath full of anticipation, I begin a slow retrieve of the line. I don't want to miss a single tug of a good idea on the line. Nothing.

Undaunted I again cast my line out over the water. Nothing.

 I check my tackle and recast the line, aiming for the quiet pool just beyond the reeds, just over the rock ledge, that ... perfect ... spot. Nada, not even so much as a nibble of interest.

Off the end of a dock or from a canoe on the lake, just the casting of a line is a happy pursuit. Perfection of the technique is a reward, and it's a very happy one for me. Not so with the writing rod and reel. Instead, I am quickly frustrated, discouraged by the empty retrieve. I give up, stomp away from my desk in a huff.

I'd rather be fishing!

 ©2018 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - September 17, 2018

The day began badly...

A steaming cappuccino to my left, I began my day with a leisurely scroll through my Facebook® news feed. The second drag of the mouse wheel brought me to this little pearl of wisdom:

One day, you'll just be a memory to some people.

Do your best to be a good one.

How lovely - NOT! I got blindsided by the first statement. It dropped me into a bucket of dreck where I spun and sputtered and sprawled for much too long. At the 65 year mark on the wheel of life, that "one day" is not as far away as it used to be!

A life review movie flashed across my mind in a uniquely unimpressive trailer that lasted all of 2 seconds. Panic wicked up the hairs on my neck - omg I'd better get out there and do something spectacular, sensational, significant; something memorable and above all good because time is running short and I haven't done anything meaningful ... not a single indelible accomplishment to my credit...

My gut curdled. My morning soured.
I shrank from the day. I shrank from life.
Oh, woe is me!









But remember that steaming cappuccino? It was still there. Still hot. Still fragrant. Still fresh from my Love's hand.

I took the warm cup in my hands, turned from my desk and headed out into the dappled sunshine of the deck. A warm and still very humid morning greeted me. Heavy dew blanketed not only the lawn but also the coated the windows with dampness. Still, the air was fragrant with a rich earthiness that was wonderfully restorative. Perspective flowed back into my soul. Gratitude overcame self-doubt. Sunshine blasted away the darkness. And caffeine evicted the doldrums.

And outside my door, the day really looks like this:

At least the trees know the summer is over!

And of course, my life is not a wasteland.
I cannot orchestrate what others will remember of my life on some distant day.
I can and will, do my best with each day I'm given.
So be it.





©2018 April Hoeller