Do not blame the day for what occurs whilst in it

They all begin the same

A gorgeous vessel tinged in apricot and lemon on one side

Mauve and pink on the other

I walk it’s bottom of winding road and waist high swaying grass

Seeds hang heavily, softly they brush my skin as I walk past, scattering to the fecund earth below

I have helped them on their fertile way with my passing

Sleepy crickets call from the depths wondering if they should wake up yet – or go to sleep, I’m not sure which but I’m thinking they are nocturnal

And butterflies, still warming their wings swoop by

Billy buttons bright and yellow, seem too heavy headed for their delicate stems

Purple flowers tumble below, who planted them so neatly? They could appear in a cottage garden

Instead they run riot beside a road

My thoughts begin to race ahead, what’s to come, even though it is too early for the phone to ring and besides, I left it on the bench at home at home

I watch Hogan as he wanders, completely caught up in the moment, I try to hang here too, suspended in the early morning breeze

Like the hawk high above I spread my wings and float, metaphorically at least

Falling deeper into the sound of the earth crunching beneath my feet

I take a deep breath, truly breathe, letting my soul release into a sigh

Sighs are so very relaxing

The minutes tick by, the miles fall behind

And I watch the changing colours in the sky

The rolling paddocks of green

And repeat

“I will not blame this day” for it is never intentionally mean

It is simply a vessel, a cup that we fill and tip out at the end

Only to begin again

Guileless, blameless and guilt free

So instead I will drink from it, deeply

*People bemoan Monday’s. Look forwards to Friday. Have “a terrible day” a “great day”. Days are impartial. We fall into a day, not it into us. Many people do not wake into another day, many won’t ever wake into the potential of another day on earth ever again

We decry and blame the day, yet we choose what we allow into our empty cup. This morning I caught myself throwing junk in the forms of thoughts and plans into my cup even before the sun was up. Here I was in the most beautiful of mornings, tromping along the bottom of a wondrous vessel at the beginning of potential and already I was allowing negativity to pollute its peacefulness.

I like the thought of a day as a cup. I like the idea that I can be suspended within a space and choose what I allow in there with me. Yes, there is much that is out of our control. But just as I decide what to fill my glass with when I am thirsty, I choose (largely) what to fill my day with. And what to leave out.

It’s Monday, a day that has a lot of negative memes attached to it. But it is also a day. What a blessing to have a day. May it be what you make it. 💕