You’ve seen the t-shirts, hats, and bags. The company has made much money promoting their “simple message of optimism.”

I wish it were that easy. But I do find when I can focus on the good, I am more appreciative of what I have and who I am. David and I walked downtown this morning, carrying an umbrella in the ever-present dark clouds–waiting for yet another storm.

We met friends at Foode for a fabulous brunch. A hundred laughs later, we waddled out to the street, bright sunlight streaming everywhere. Yes! The cliche popped into my head: life is good.

Lately, I’ve been….. how do I say this without using the D word.
Hmmm, don’t think I can. So I’ll just say it: depressed.
For going on two weeks, we’ve had a rodent problem in our crawl space. Our house was built in 1850, so there are ways for this to happen. Because of some stupid advice, we now also have an odor problem. And it’s been raining, or at least cold and gray, for days and days and weeks and years. Ok, I’m exaggerating, as I tend to do.
But seriously, last night I’d just about had it.
However, I’m always amazed how quickly I can turn stuff around. I mean going-from-the-depths-of-despair to “hey, this is a not-bad-day” kind of flip. This morning, we have wonderful folks cleaning and scrubbing our hard-to-reach crawl space, it’s warm enough for all the windows and crawl space doors to be open and breathing, AND the sun is, well, radiant.
I feel so much better now that we have a plan, and the end of all this is near.
As always, I am remembering to keep this in mind:

We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts we make the world. – Gautama Buddha

I am struggling to write these days. Snippets of lines as I walk to the studio, a fleeting thought while I make dinner. But nothing develops, no words fill the page (or screen).

Today is a good day to sit by the fire and read.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry