First snowflakes blowing through the gorgeous autumn environment here. It's a rogue attack, one to test my readiness, I'm sure.
Firewood in basement: check.
Snow tires on truck: almost check. Monday.
Storm windows up: check. (I popped two old wooden storms into slots on the back of the house today. These babies have 20 small panes each. I figure they were built with the house almost 150 years ago, and am always amazed that they fit into their openings sooo tightly each year, not a sixteenth of an inch clearance. Now: that is good craftsmanship. I praise the late builders.)
Temps back to normal this week.
I realized this week that mindfulness for me is very much like my tinnitus. They both run 24/7 like recording tracks. And most of the time, I'm utterly unaware of each track. Then, now and again, I'll be reminded: 'hey, that tinnitus is still there, like a field of cicadas, and it never stops. I'm so glad I don't hear it.'
Or, I'll think: 'hey. Here I am in space and time, in my body. Feel that sun. Better put some socks on the old feet. take a breath, take a breath, where exactly am I? etc.
Which is to say: moving in and out of consciousness has its pros and cons. In my case, the transitions are mostly not deliberate.
Good weekend, all!