Frustration. It’s what I felt when I noticed I’d spent the final minute of my meditation lost in thought. It’s what I felt when I was getting into my car after a hike and realized that I wasn’t as mindful as I wanted to be. It’s what I felt when I completed my gratitude journal only to realize that I just wrote some things down on a page without letting gratitude fill up my entire experience. It’s what I felt when I was coming out of savasana at the end of a yoga class when I noticed that I forgot to let myself just be there instead of always planning, striving, waiting for the next thing. After a moment of frustration, I would resolve to try harder next time and just go about my life. But here’s what I was forgetting: the meditation, the hike, the journaling, the yoga class… these aren’t just highlights. These practices are what prepare me to be more present during my life. I was stuck in my thinking that I could only live a fulfilling and meaningful life if I did the grand things. I would feel present during meditation, feel grateful while writing in my gratitude journal, feel alive during a hike, and feel awake during a yoga class. I was forgetting that I have the option of being present, grateful, alive, and awake during all parts of my day. I can be present with this pair of pants that I’m folding, and I can be grateful that I have legs to put them on. I can let myself smell and hear the celery that I’m chopping up to go with my lunch, and find gratitude for the resources to afford fresh vegetables to eat. I can take an extra 5 minutes to feel the shade of a giant tree in my neighborhood. I can really look at people, all the people, that I come into contact with throughout my day. I can listen to them, really listen to the words they are saying; without needing to formulate a response. I can let myself be right here, with whatever is happening. I can let myself live a meaningful and fulfilling life, even when it’s not grand. I can be present with the morning routine, and the errand running, and the unexpected traffic, and the midday dreariness. I can notice the color of the sky at dusk, and give myself some time to just breathe with the sky- and take it all in.
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For as long as I can remember, I’ve been writing. I wrote about my day in a journal. I wrote about my pets, my family. I wrote about Christmas morning. I wrote about loved ones that I missed. I wrote what was on my heart. I developed a knack for creative writing in childhood and was invited to take a special class in the 6th grade. I remember learning the art of metaphor and falling madly in love. What a beautiful tool, to be able to equate human experience to that of your natural surroundings. At some point between the age of 14 and 20 I learned quite well how to write and live in a way that states facts, succinctly. I learned how to write only what was needed to be read. I learned to leave the emotion I felt separate from the statements that were required. I learned how to live in a way that was socially normal, and stay within the lines. At some point between the age of 14 and 20 I learned quite well how to write and live in a way that states facts, succinctly. I learned how to write only what was needed to be read. I learned to leave the emotion I felt separate from the statements that were required. I learned how to live in a way that was socially normal, and stay within the lines.
Then about 4 years ago, I needed to express something. For instance, the way rivers flow softly around rough obstacles. I needed to be that river, and I remember being absolutely certain that someone had written something beautiful about this phenomena, and all I had to do was enough research online and I’d be able to find them. I had an internal need that I was trying to fulfill externally. There was a moment where the idea smacked me square in the jaw- why not just write it down yourself? It was so obvious.. What else could I do? I ignored it. I kept on reading more books, taking more classes, listening to more interviews, and searching for more external inspiration. One day the urge couldn’t be stifled any longer.. And I decided to write again what was on my heart. I decided to write the poetry that was shouting inside my mind. The poetry that wanted so badly to be put down on the page. The poetry that wanted to grow. The poetry that wanted to wake me up. The poetry that wanted to connect me to this wild universe. |
Paige DunfordPoetry. Blog Archive
March 2023
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