This Mothership is fueled by Dark Chocolate and other Combustibles


These days, life is being imagined day by day. Contemplation of anything beyond the moment, (what of the summer, the next school year, the long term vision?), is simply impossible. It is a quiet revelation to land at my desk and write while the clock reads Coffee rather than Wine. I have played with writing at other times, but morning feels like the time for me.

Through the winter, I used this space in our home as a sunlit yoga studio. The low rays of winter sunshine streamed in and I rotated my succulent plants about the room to benefit from that benediction.

Caleb and I would laze away Liam’s school days on our mats, nursing and staring at dust particles. I watched him move from horizontal play, to sitting and now an amalgamation of effort that results in his free movement while mostly looking ridiculous and adorable.

The sun has shifted its arc to overhead, over-house. Today, the plants and I are chilled for lack of sunshine and for me, lack of sleep.

Our sleeping routine and with it- everything- has been upended for the last two weeks (or was it months?) through visitors, travel, visitors, travel, illness, teething, developmental shifts. Oy.

In early parenthood, there are times of revelation, “oh yeah, sleep disruption IS a great way to torture somebody!”

I am weary and digging deep to find the bedrock trust: it will all shift, of course, and become sustainable again.

Yesterday, a friend and I walked through the sunny, dry gulches and rises of our foothills. It was an excellent alternative to staring at a drooling, crab-crawling little monkey with no discrimination about what goes into his mouth. My friend referred to some of her self care practices as Micro and that is an idea I’ve latched onto: a minute of this here, a minute of that there. It’s like planting a seed each time you walk past your garden bed rather than getting the whole thing in the ground at once.

A micro practice that I have been cultivating is that of The Pause: in speech, in movement, really, whenever I can.

And with that, one of the songs reverberating in my head this week as, the world spins on past by bleary eyes (and a fairly hilarious video to boot):

2 thoughts on “This Mothership is fueled by Dark Chocolate and other Combustibles

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