it's a beautiful day to breathe

 I don't know why this painting is speaking to me about being attached to this post. I think it is her quiet being in so much strength. It feels like breath to me. 

I don't know why this painting is speaking to me about being attached to this post. I think it is her quiet being in so much strength. It feels like breath to me. 

Good morning! 

It's a beautiful Saturday here in Upstate South Carolina. The air is clear after yesterday's rain. It feels like resurrection, reinvention, new life. Not that I didn't love yesterday. Nothing is better than a gloomy, rainy, day moving in slow motion. Those are the days for answering self questions and quiet contemplation. Today is a day to move, to set things in order. 

You know what today isn't? It's not the best day for writing a blog post. According to the peoples who study this type of thing, Saturday is probably the worst day to post. Do you know who doesn't care? Me. I don't write for the purpose of building my readership - ( though I do love the conversations we could have!) - I write here primarily as an exploration of my creative process and also as a testament to who I am. It's something to leave behind for future generations. Since I suspect that the lows and highs of life are common to us all, I post here as an effort to reach out with a gentle, "me, too." Let's talk. 

I started two blogging challenges at the beginning of April - because evidently one wasn't enough! I am still writing those posts and adding them in their proper order though it will probably take me well to the end of May to complete. I love the process of exploration so I am going to continue and play the game by my rules. Since I am retroactively posting those, if you are subscribed via a feed reader, they may not have shown up in your feed. Visit the blog to catch up on what I've been writing this month. 

Today, I was supposed to by in Kansas at Carrie Hilgert's first Spirit and Bone retreat. However, I have spent all this week battling cellulitis in my left arm. It's been a slow healing and my doctor had not ruled out a trip to the hospital to get IV antibiotics so I erred on the side of caution and stayed home. There was a sure sense of peace surrounding that decision. Though I was so sad to miss my time with Carrie, I settled into such a deep trust of life giving me what I needed right now. I've needed a chance to breathe. To move slowly. The body said, Now is the time. 

The words are catching up to me. I just wrote that I've needed a chance to breathe. When I went to the doctor on Thursday, they checked my oxygen levels twice when the first was a little low because I was breathing shallow. We tend to do that, I think. Busy, busy, busy. Taking for granted this automatic response of breathing in and breathing out. I've need a change to breathe. 

What a gift a deep breath is! Taking a few moments, to close the eyes, to inhale deeply and more deeply, to pause, and exhale slowly is a beautiful way to reset the moment. 

How do you tell if something’s alive? You check for breathing.
— Markus Zusak, The Book Thief


Today, on this beautiful day, I will be breathing deeply, moving gently, still healing. I will be writing blog posts in my head, moving toward the goal of completing the exploration of those challenges. I will be sorting through and organizing art space, a little here, a little there. 

What are you plans for this beautiful day?