Visions

Since this pandemic crisis began, I’ve been practicing visualization techniques to help get me through the feeling that every day is Ground Hog Day. I think of it as exercising my inner optimist, (because the inner pessimist is self-medicating with potato chips and is just fine with that, thank you very much). I’m doing everything I can to find the good in each day, to focus on the positive and keep the faith that better days are ahead. They are. I believe that.

Sunday nights I set aside time to practice a visualization of my Monday morning, setting the tone for the week ahead. Silent and still, I close my eyes and imagine waking up to a perfect scene. Beautiful, bright sunshine. Blue skies. Warm air. Gardens in bloom. Birds chirping. Driving to work, passing green fields and driving home with the big orange sun slipping behind the trees. A day worth repeating.

Then Monday morning happened. I woke up to snow. Not a little snow, but a full-on dumping of white, heavy, wet snow blanketing everything I could see. Grey, dark overcast skies. No sunshine. Cold air. Dog walkers passing the house wearing winter hats and mittens, stuffed into their puffy coats. I couldn’t see the orange flowers the Carpenter planted for me in the garden, but I could see the tracks his truck tires left in the snow on the driveway hours before.

I looked across the backyard to the trees, limbs draped heavy in white and wondered if the baby birds were shivering in their soaked nests. If birds have a tweet language for swearing, I bet they had a lot of naughty exchanges that day. I shivered in my frumpy bathrobe, hugging my cup of coffee, silently expressing some naughty words myself. The pessimist enjoys it when I give in to negative thoughts. The optimist scolded this reaction, reminding me that while it shouldn’t snow in May, it created a picture-perfect scene, like Christmas morning without the presents. The pessimist choked on our coffee.

Now, I know what you’re thinking because the pessimist expressed it too: Kelly, your visualization was an epic fail. Like not even close. It snowed. In May. More than once. People are wearing mittens. You should be fired from the visualization society. Or quit.

Okay, that’s fair. I can see how that conclusion is drawn, but you could also look at this recent snowfall as proof that every day isn’t Ground Hog Day, right? It might not have lived up to my vision, but it was certainly a unique day, with a week of cold weather to follow.

Don’t worry though, because I’m going to give this whole visualization practice another try. This time I’m focused on the long weekend. Three whole days off (not for me, but hopefully for you). Surely, I can get it right this time. You look worried. You don’t trust my visions? Oh ye of little faith.

Silent and still, I close my eyes and imagine all that this long weekend will bring. I visualize warm sun and endless blue skies. Mild breezes. Windows open. I see flowers blooming and baby birds following their parent’s invisible paths through the air. I see yard work being done, just not by me.

And best of all, the line up at the chip truck is short and the fries are fresh. It’s going to be beautiful.  Stay safe, everyone.

WriteOut of Her Mind

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