I’m not sure what it is, but lately mornings are not my friend. At best I wake up meh, and at worst, well, worse than that. I’ve never been one to open my eyes, have my feet hit the floor, and be ready to dance my way through the day. Thankfully, with the good help of my spiritual director, I’ve found a way to offer myself a little grace. Rather than see it as a problem to fix, or try to cajole myself into a sunnier mood, I’ve come to recognize that’s just how I roll. That’s just how I wake up and find my way into a day, and accepting that feels like kindness instead of criticism. Some days I’m kinder to myself than others, but then when are we ever anything but works in progress?
Side-note: It doesn’t necessarily help that the guy I share life with got way more than his share of the“I’m just a happy guy” gene. But, whatever. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for him. As in really happy for him. It’s just not how I roll.
This morning, I rolled into another day of meh and then some. I’ve found it can be good to name what’s going on out loud to myself and to Dr. Happy. “Grr. I’m tired of waking up this way. I’m having a hard time figuring out why I’m here, what I’m about, and what to look forward to.” Just hearing myself say those words makes me nuts. But apparently that’s what I felt, so that’s what I said.
Heading down the road for a day of errands, appointments, and whatnot, my geologist asked me how my mood thing was going. “Hmm” I said. “Not sure.” We drove on in silence, the mountain out in all her glory, blue skies, flocks of Canada geese wending their way to wherever they wend, and new calves in the fields napping close to their tired and attentive mamas. Then, the elk showed up. Not one or two, but herds and herds of them. Not way far off, but up close and personal. We rolled the windows down and cruised by slowly, taking in all of their elk-ness. They are so, so, so big that deer look like toy animals in comparison. This time of year it’s mostly the cows that hang around, waiting for their calves to arrive later in the spring. Most of the bulls are off wherever they go, probably hanging together commiserating that it’s a long time until the next rut.
We kept driving. More elk. And then more elk. And even more elk. It was some kind of magic, all those living beings that share the valley with us showing up to join us along our way. And just like that, I found myself to the other side of meh, to magic. Like I said, I guess that’s just how I roll. Maybe you do, too.
I’m not sure what is behind the comings and goings of good moods. Writing seems to help, so thank you for joining me here. And for whatever reason, at least for me, so do elk.
