Now playing: 365 Days of Me Time

I started this blog as an exercise in writing, in exploring possibilities and giving a voice to my 30-day experience on the Farmcoast.

Now that I’m home, why stop there?

Shouldn’t we strive to fill our hearts with a little self-indulgence every day? It is our one life to live, no? It is a miracle to have the chances that we do, yes? We are all–each and every one of us–worth it, aren’t we?

You don’t need a hair product commercial to tell yourself you’re worth it. Your zest for life is not going to materialize in a fortune cookie. And you can’t rely on winning the lottery to change your destiny. Let’s face it. One great, amazing thing you can control is how you treat yourself.

So…maybe skip a day of work next week and avoid your email, texts and Facebook pings. Don’t even look. All will be there when you get back to it. And if not, consider yourself lucky.

Sneak into another movie after a movie with overpriced candy in your pockets and perhaps a discreet flask of somethin’ somethin’. That’s right. Just like when you were 15. Because that ridiculous teen in you should always be accessible.

Get into your car and drive without a destination, radio up, windows down and all back roads. Get lost because that’s when you find something truly interesting.

Find an old-world steam bath. Go naked. Sing if you must. Who cares. Not you 20, 30 years from now. So why wait til you get old to be that carefree. F-it. Who cares.

Give your best to your worst guilty pleasure. As long as you’re not making someone else squeamish, I’d say, you are allowed.

365. 24/7. Take it. It’s yours.

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Day 1: Shelved.

I put my life on a shelf for a month.

I have to check out to tune in. Similar to that 60’s psychedelic sentiment–without the drugs.

The house I’m renting is delightful. There’s a panoramic view of the river just over the sun deck, a lawn blanketed in at least a foot of snow and a short pier at the end jutting out into the icy, glassy water. It’s even snowing softly yet steadily, accentuating the already soothing scenery.

All I need is some wood for the wood burning stove. And to figure out how to hook up my Apple TV for my guilty pleasure of back-to-back episodes of House of Cards. My box of paints are waiting to be cracked open. My Kindle is loaded.

There’s so much bubbling over, I don’t even know if 30 days is enough. What does it take to live a life where you’re tuned in to yourself all the time? Why do we get lost? When does the questioning fall away so that I can just be?Screen shot 2016-08-21 at 10.32.31 PM

A shelf holds things. Displays them. Keeps them for later, periodic use. At some point, we dust the contents off. Shelves hold things we’re aware of. We know what’s sitting where and why. But we leave them there until the right moment–contented that they’re easily within reach when we’re ready.