It's Springtime! Indulge Yourself In Memories, Desires And More

Are you keeping yourself too busy to enjoy things you'd LIKE to spend time on? If you inventory your week, where could you, would you, put in a few hours just for you? What do you have a big appetite for? What enlightens your happiness? Let's hang out together and share some ideas.

All my senses have big appetites in spring. A perfect motto for April: If it feels good, do it.

I'm recalling memories here. There was the morning I took my oatmeal with flaxseed, sunflower seeds, apple juice and yogurt to my deck and also drank in the sun. I looked at the blooming dogwood tree and rose bushes and some plants from last November's landscaping I can't identify, and felt as proud as a nurse with all the new babies tucked in and sleeping in the hospital nursery. Even more so knowing I'd pulled a lot of weeds yesterday while David planted the dahlias and the zucchini plants I got from Diane.

I'm sitting at my desk looking out at the snow-covered Olympics and Puget Sound, with lots of evergreen trees in my closer vision. Right out the window on my small upstairs deck ledge are driftwood, shells and rocks from various ambles down near and far beaches.

Memory brings up faces and places, plans and adventures with friends and lovers who've been along as I collected these pieces. It doesn't even matter that I don't know which rock came from where; I get to make a memory collage of many people who were or might have been on those walks. Here is where my mature memory does just fine, thank you!I get to be a storyteller, and make up the scenario, as I might make a new smoothie from ingredients at hand, or as I may tell a story from my girlhood that is part memory, part wish, part nostalgia. (What memory comes for you?)

Looking out, I get the visual of lilacs across the street, and the aroma of them right beside me. My neighbor said, "Help yourself" and I did—three vases full. They won't fit on my desk, crowded as it is with unfiled papers, but I lean down to take them in, as a proud 10-year-old might exult in the smell of her first chocolate chip cookies. I imagine wearing one in my hair when I take the bus to the library. I even feel a bit sad knowing that in two days, on my way to Minneapolis for Coach Training Institute, I will be separated from their aromatic beauty. But my own late-blooming lilacs will be out by
then, so it's a sadness I can bear.

I see bubbles rising outside my window. For the moment before I know the source, I feel the same animated delight we all felt when the first volley of bubbles shot forth on my back lawn for my 59th birthday party. Another neighbor, who was here when Bubble Man did his show, is blowing bubbles with her two girls and another mom and child.

Ah, the simple joys of simple things—1 part Joy dishwashing liquid to 15 parts water. And you can use "cheap toys" as the Bubble Man repeated often during his show. Plastic "woven" silverware trays attached to a broom handle, and any objects with holes the bubbles can spring forth from. I get to relive the joy of my friends gathered that Sunday afternoon just because my neighbor is blowing bubbles today and I noticed them.  (Ask yourself what enjoyable experiences you really took in the last time you were outside.)

I'm listening to Strauss waltzes on a CD, and when I hear the clapping, I imagine I'm there, on a lawn or in a concert house, smiling from the inside out. Music is an ongoing joy, except the music my daughter plays in her car on the way to and from the gym. But I get to choose all the rest of the time, and I usually get 10 or 20 CDs from the library every three weeks.

When there is a deadline, I remember to play them. I'm returning some books today that exceeded my appetite and my time for reading. But I can put them back on reserve. If one goes back partly read to avoid a fine, I know I can take up again the next time it comes into my hands. So I can look at it as anticipation for later, rather than as loss for now. (What "loss" can you turn to anticipation?)

I think of all the sweet satisfaction there is, every time I am aware of it: in the padded seats of some Eastside buses I ride, in the ease with which my weight lifting at the gym is progressing, in the anticipation of the June 17 cookout-campout at Camp Long, in the confirmed flight in May to visit my favorite brother in LA.

I am glad for the fulfillment of my voracious appetite for insights and humor and inspiration in the various quotes, essays, and personal growth sites I subscribe to that give me a quick lift each day. I am grateful for my budding aesthetic sense, which daily is gratified by the new square white-tile-and-oak table and chairs in the kitchen. Bruce got them at a yard sale for $85 and will take them with him when he chooses to get his own place in the future, but for now, they are "mine" to enjoy.

I am softened at the memory of a Friday with granddaughter Kayla at the Pacific Science Center. We both have such appetites to experience it all! I shall try to guide her gently into the joys of savoring X for a while before running on to Y.

There is time to inhale them both. I will be teaching what I need to learn. (Instead of rushing from one activity to another, what signal can you give yourself to be fully present in any given moment? Who might you pick to learn with? To learn from? What experience would give you the most pleasure?) 

A while back, my appetite for shared learning was engaged again. Five or more of us were doing John Randolph Price's 40-day prosperity plan from The Abundance Book. I was on day 2, and we five exchanged occasional reflective emails among us.

The first day's paragraph, which you read and then meditate on for 15 minutes, before journaling any ideas that come up, speaks of God as "…lavish, unfailing Abundance, all-providing Source of infinite prosperity individualized as me…" The 15 minutes brought up images of a bottomless cornucopia, unceasing waterfalls, faucets and lights that work at every touch, as safe from lack as a trusting baby. Having a 40-day program shared with others offers the support that I find so bountiful in creating the desired life. (What mutual support do you seek out to remind and be reminded of what matters the most?)

Oh, the shortcake was delicious, as was the catfish with onions and capers and horseradish last night. I am so grateful for my appetites that pull me toward satisfying my senses. (What are your eyes or ears or taste buds or nose or touch hungry for?)

If you  need reminders to make your relaxation important just as you do your responsibilities, make a chart you see each day. Or set your phone for as many times as you'd like to hear the call to Indulge Yourself!

I'd love to support you in making your life more free and fulfilled. Let's talk in a complimentary coaching call. 206-938-8385 and we're ready to move forward! Hurrah!