I've decided to put pen to paper again. Well, in a digital sense that is. I have been in a very contemplative mood as of late. Perhaps it is because my 39th birthday is approaching. Perhaps it is because I have been gardening more and learning and discovering so many new things and exploring new ideas and thoughts. Well, perhaps not discovering new thoughts, but allowing myself space to really think about these thoughts.
As a half promise to myself, and myself alone, I am endeavoring to write again, somewhere. The only purpose is to have a record of my thoughts and memories at this time and place in my life without overindulging or oversharing. A way to suspend the myriad of thoughts that run like rapid fire between my left and right brain. Ping, ping, ping. Ding, ding, ding! I desire to have a space to pour these rambling thoughts of mine.
And well, why not here. Why not? Perhaps you came for the clothes, perhaps you'll stay for the heart.
I am someone that loves routines. And lists. Oh I love them. I love to plan. I like to research. I like everything to have a purpose and a reason. Ask anyone on my team and they'll tell you "Yes, Rodellee likes purpose, intention, and efficiency!"
I shared a story during our morning huddle about the difference between my sister and I after an Easter egg hunt that illustrates the sentiment above. Each one of us would be gifted a beautiful chocolate Easter bunny. My sister would never eat hers. It was too beautiful in it's packaging. I on the other hand would spread out all the candy I had found and ration everything out evenly accounting for the parts of the chocolate bunny (the left ear, then right, then feet, and so on). Not eating the chocolate bunny was a waste of chocolate! Organization and order leads to the good stuff.
Hmm, as I am musing more about this, I realize perhaps it is not routines I like. Perhaps the better word is rituals.
According to the Oxford dictionary, the definition of routine is: "a sequence of actions regularly followed; a fixed program" and the definition of ritual is: "a religious or solemn ceremony consisting of a series of actions performed according to a prescribed order."
I don't think either word fits the bill, not that it matters all that much, though I've realized it's something between the two that makes my heart sings. A loose routine of daily little rituals.
I love have constancy and consistency but if it's TOO consistent, I get bored very easily. In the mornings I look forward to a comforting hot drink. Whether that's tea or coffee depends on my mood that morning (and also my acid indigestion, sadly). Sometimes I'll be in the mood to make a delicious open faced breakfast sandwich with greens from my garden. Other times I just have a banana or an apple. The routine is breakfast, the ritual is nourishment.
I'm thinking about all the things in my day that feel repetitive, but no day feels exactly like the other. I have often wanted to pen down my thoughts in my journal that has been laying by my bedside untouched for nearly a year. I seem to have too much to say and little motivation to write it down. And so here I am instead, typing it out. The daily ordinary little things that bring me joy, the little tiddly bits that when threaded all together make up my life.
- R O D E L L E E -
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