Every night, in the last hour or so before I go to bed, I look forward to breakfast. Whole grain La Brea toast, Justin’s Chocolate Almond Butter, Mighty Leaf Organic Breakfast tea, and Strauss Family 2% milk in a glass bottle. This anticipation is part of my weight maintenance strategy. Why eat late night to dull an edge of hunger that will be so happily satisfied come morning?
Yesterday Significant Husband and I decided to spend our honeymoon in Hawaii after all. I had settled on the Enchantment Resort in Arizona. I made reservations and everything. Then I had a terrible dream and canceled. Californians believe in ghosts. So we’ll honeymoon at the St. Regis on Kauai, in November.
Anticipated holidays are breakfast without the toast.
I believe in living in the moment, I do. I believe in paying attention, and watching the sun cross the living room rug, red, aqua, navy. But it seems that building in things to look forward to, the small and the large, is also good for the spirit.
We risk disappointment, this way. What if the future joy is sour when it gets here? We also risk large segments of time spent in discontent, waiting for whatever is supposed to make everything OK. Fix what’s broken now, don’t wait for an imaginary rescue.
But what the heck, people. Sometimes we’re mindful, sometimes we float, our thoughts so much elsewhere that we miss the airport exit, leave our keys in the house, forget our credit cards at restaurants. Either way we can find that state of being that Materfamilias described so well as ferociously comfortable.
Just now I read this article, via Cup of Jo. Turns out sleep is a time when our brains clean up. Sleep dreams may be the fragments of what we failed to integrate during the day, cerebro-spinal fluid firing up neurons along the way to a cleansing in our hard-working livers.
So maybe daydreams, in turn, help us integrate cognition a priori. Maybe daydreams are waking sleep, taking us away from the moment but returning us more able to focus. The imagination as the liver of our thinking selves. It’s possible.
In this moment I’m wearing black and white checked pajamas pants and a hoodie. The clock ticks loudly. In this moment, I’ll make another cup of tea because I so love my breakfast. The creamtop milk is an entire experience, shaking, pouring, watching milk fat dissipate in spirals. But in my mind’s eye I see the ocean and wind in palm trees.
We are lucky to have choice in exactly how and where we are present.
Have a wonderful weekend.