Closing My Eyes to See

[excerpt from a journal entry dated 3/28/13]

   One gorgeous Spring day calls for another.

I love Spring! I live for the beautiful, sunny, warm (with a light breeze), blue skies. I love waking up to the birds chirping gleefully and melodically. I love seeing the brightness of vibrant and varied colors seen through the trees, flowers, grass, and - everything that Spring brings. Honestly, it appears that the mountains reach higher towards the heavens as do the trees, and all living creatures are happier on lovely sunny, sweet days like this...

Now, if only moving preparations weren't robbing me of my sanity, and my ability to think clearly. It's as if I'm running in a wind tunnel. I am expending a considerable amount of energy but not really getting anywhere, all the while my hair and clothes are disheveled and I can hardly catch my breath. Everyone around me must think I've lost my mind. Who knows, perhaps I have...

Interestingly, everything about "the move" is a Catch 22, as it were... which is mildly comical. It's still the right decision, I believe. It's just not "straight shot", or "smooth sailing", rather, however, most scenarios in life aren't one slick, seamless process. And, as the scriptures and prophets say - there's opposition in all things. Oh! Suddenly, I am reminded of something Jeffrey R. Holland once said; if you have prayed about it, and received confirmation - keep the course. (This is, of course, paraphrased).

If only these "Catch 22s" didn't perplex me in such a way that I doubt myself.

I need to mediate.

Where's my Tranquility CD or my Reiki CD?

Seriously, who did I lend those to...?

I need to find a lovely, quiet, soothing spot, play one of those CDs, and sit in the warm sun, with my eyes closed - and really endeavor to listen to specific instructions Heavenly Father has for me in this situation.

It's interesting that I feel the need to close my eyes to have my eyes opened, and thus be able to see every aspect of "the move" (and what exactly to do) more clearly. 

Walks in the sun

  I have about five different blog post drafts sitting on file, but due to one unforeseen circumstance after another, have been otherwise "distracted", if you will.

 On the first of January, I wrote a note to this new year on my Facebook wall. It read: "Dear 2012: Let's be friends, and be awesome together".

 The previous year was exceptionally arduous for a multitude of reasons; it began hard, and ended hard. I was determined (and still am) to make this new year a fantastic one. Even if the odds are against me; I am forging optimistic.

 I told myself that there was no way that January would be as disastrous December. Nope. January has to be excellent. "Let's be excellent", I said to Mr. January.

 And, for the most part, the first nine days of January were okay; definitely an improvement from it's predecessor, Mr. December.

Or, perhaps, it felt okay because I started taking long walks in the sunshine to destress, reflect, and remind myself to breathe. 

 Being out in the sun for about five to ten miles a day definitely seems to make a difference. It helped shine some light on a few things, particularly endowing me with the ability to deem myself worthy of happiness.

 And that was huge. Huge, I say. So much so that my doctor, yesterday, noticed the lighter inflections of my speech and said: "Wow! I can see that you're finally starting to see you matter. And you seem lighter now."

That really meant so much to me. As I walked home from that appointment, in the Monday afternoon sunshine (which is so atypical for a January here where I live, but oh-so-very-much-appreciated), I felt...

Grateful.
Empowered.
Calm.
And, yes, Light.

  Then today, the reality of all the doggone disastrous doosies from December came crashing down, and it took everything I could muster NOT to breakdown.

 So, not knowing what to do, and not having anyone to call for help, I shed some tears and took a long walk in the sun.

  And while it doesn't solve the tremendous trials that continue to bombard me, and the perilous predicament it has thus put me in, it does help.

  You don't necessarily have to feel sunshine-y to walk in the sun, and enjoy how good it feels to follow the Sun, even though today - and tomorrow - may rain.

(note: in case you didn't catch my Beatles reference in that last sentence, here's a chance for you to listen to it.)