So far, today has been a natural day. I woke refreshed without prompting or agitation from a deep sleep. The room was lit and the clock said 7:31. Late for me. I agreed that I would get up and walk but sleep returned and I woke a second time over an hour later. I kept my agreement and dressed to walk. After walking 30 feet, I realized it was too chilly for only one layer, so I went back and added another shirt. There was no hurry or urgency to my first hour awake. I listened to Atlas Shrugged as I walked. Too quickly, it was four laps later. Keep walking or have coffee?

Coffee trumps most things. Coffee with a fresh sesame bagel toasted with butter and pear conserve started a leisurely, unfettered day. After eating and reading a nearly worthless local paper, I started to slowly straightened and sort both boys rooms, closets and clothes. I dusted and vacuumed. I washed clothes and folded them and put them all away. I matched socks with only 2 unpaired straglers. I opened all the windows and let the outside into my home. I worked in silence, listening to the cranes flying south and the tiny finches on my bird feeder. The cows in the pasture behind me were silent, too. The sounds of insect and the refridgerator compressor were my company.

I realized, much to me pleasure that Atlas Shrugged is not a single part download from Rather, it is a SEVEN part download. I fiddled with iTunes and the audible manager and downloaded the six other segments. I am happy, as I like Dagney Taggert and Francisco De Conia and Hank Riordan. I am not sure how I got through honors and AP English and all of undergrad having never read anything by Ayn Rand. The language of her writing is potent and sensual, organic and tangible. I find myself wanting to listen over and over again to a sentence simply because of the image it conjures or the emotion it provokes. And the emotions are complex and not easily named. I am quite happy I have 40 more hours to spend with these characters.

I finally realized I was hungry, so I ate a late lunch. Food, although something I love, has become an afterthought. I forget to eat, especially when I am here alone. When I realize I am hungry, I eat simply: a bowl of cereal, a peanut butter and honey sandwich, an apple. I rarely cook for myself. I relish an opportunity to cook for others.

Psyblog had an interesting post a few days ago about the impact of gratitude. Today has been a day of gratitude. Quietude encourages gratitude. I suppose, quietude and solitude could promote griping and dissatisfaction, but I make an active choice that the pendulum swings to the harmonious. Even in the friction, I can find something for which I am thankful. Friction generates heat. Heat is a good thing when my feet are cold. I want harmony but I do not control this symphony of my life….not all of it. So, I shall try to compose avant garde jazz, using the discordant notes in this composition of my so called life. The flats and the sharps give an otherwise simple arrangment texture and complexity.

I dear friend keeps sending me music, often things I have never heard…and probably would never had found accidentally. I like filling my head with difference. Difference challenges me. Similarity affirms all that I already am or know. Difference takes me someplace NEW, uncomfortable and unknown. I want to expore new paths even if I am timid or uncertain. Am I required to have a destination or can my journey be my endeavor. Must I know where I am going? The Lord knows where I am going and I trust Him.

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