One Picture/One Paragraph
I love looking at this habit tracker as I walk by my desk. It is a reminder of who I used to be and how very far I have come. There was a time when I made long lists of the ways I should improve. Ways to eat healthier, exercise more, sleep better, drink more water, and on and on. But things are different now. I don’t know if it’s my inner rebel showing her sassy self or if I have simply recognized the tragedy of a life lived with so many expectations and goals. But either way, the notepad of weekly chores with its little circles sits unchecked. This does not feel like failure. It feels like compassion. Life is often filled with home-cooked meals and long walks and creative activities and joyful movement and fulfilling relationships, all in their own time and space. There are boring, ordinary days. Days of rest to balance those of activity. Days to read all day or watch funny television shows. Days that I do not feel well. Days to celebrate. And days of sorrow over what may come. Tears of joy over every little thing. The days of the week are marked by humanity and wholeness.