And We Are Back to Naming Decades

I do this every year. I write lists and make goals and promise myself the universe. And I stumble and fall. I know I will again.

But I keep trying. I keep trying because not trying would get me nowhere. Not trying will not just keep me in the same spot, but will cause me to fall behind. When we don't grow, we don't just stop growing, we start shrinking. And the only thing I want to shrink is my waistline, and my thighs, and my upper arms.

But the rest? I want it in abundance.

And so I signed up again for The Ultimate Blog Challenge. The expectation is that I will write a new blog post EVERY SINGLE DAY for an entire month.

To be honest, I don't know what this will achieve other than to force me to sit down in the chair and write something. And that is something. Perhaps that's all that I need.

And so here I am. I will post something everyday. I hope you will come visit everyday. I hope if you can, you will comment. I hope you will share when you like something. I hope we can create conversations here.

I have a lot of hope. Hope has gotten me through some tough times. Hope is my theme word for January.

And now that I think of it, I want to share with you my theme for 2020.

It comes from the book Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach. She speaks about the poem "Ithaka" by C.V. Cavafy. And she shares her own version of it that she has written. And now I share with you the opening excerpt from her poem.

Excerpt from Ithaka for Women

by Sarah Ban Breathnach Pray that your journey be long,

full of many summer mornings

when with much pleasure and much joy

you anchor in harbors never seen before...

*****

One of the other things I'm working on is the book "A Writers Book of Days.

There's a prompt for every day of the year.

Sunday Afternoons

by Anna Maria Junus

On Sunday afternoons

When the flurry of church is over

And before the dread of Monday begins,

We lay in peaceful repose

A book at our side,

Debating to read or nap.

Or we laugh in the kitchen with loved ones

As we clean up after the Sunday meal.

We may take long walks in the woods or by the ocean,

Or sit on the porch swing if it is summer.

For a moment, we forget about where we have to be next,

Or what we have to do next,

Or who we have to be next,

And just take in the smells of lilacs, or roast beef,

Or fresh cinnamon buns,

Or the freshly washed aroma of a newborn babies head. On Sunday afternoons we just embrace,

What it really means to take a day of rest.