I spent today practicing sweetness and light. I took Dave's excellent advice and after dropping my car at the bodyshop, I declined the ride home and walked the handful of kilometres down the colourful stretch of Roncesvalles.
On the way I stopped for breakfast at the quintessential greasy diner, and after forty minutes of chirping out carefully attuned thank-yous, smiles, and more thank-yous, I think I actually managed to crack a smile out of the quintessential surly waitress. The Utterly Greek Surly Diner cook, of course, was easy. ;)
On my way, I also stopped at Pollock's hardware store for a lightbulb (and managed to get the wrong one) and some ebony stain for the speaker shelves that I spent part of today sawing and sanding, and practiced my gajillion watt grin at the surly cashier who ended up getting odd looks for giggling.
In the health food store, we had a great laugh about the soaps that Dave and I stock up on ten at a time, and I walked off with a giggle and a handful of bonus 'naturally scented' bath soaks. Whether or not Dave's perfume allergy will withstand them is still a mystery.
I walked for about an hour all told, including stops to giggle at the twins in their double-stroller, the girl on the left leaning over to kiss the boy on her right on the cheek. Every time she'd kiss him he'd howl, their father would turn around in consternation, turn back to the cashier, and she'd kiss him again: ad infinitum. The cashier and I were near tears at the spectacle.
I walked with heavy bags in hand, bananas and sweet potatoes and cucumbers, light bulbs and stain and soaps and bath soaks, and heart lighter than I'd remembered it could be.
Since then the day turned difficult, the 'furnace contractor' turned out to be a fearsomely unstable hack who managed to not only not fix anything, but get our water heater turned off by the city until another contractor can come tomorrow. I'd be putting the second coat of stain on the speaker shelves but I wouldn't be able to wash the brush afterwards. A similar excuse goes for most of the list of errands; the rest of them covered by the fact that I can't plant tulips in the dark. Near-dark yes, but utter dark is still beyond my abilities.
I'll rant about the furnace man tomorrow, after the new guy has (hopefully) come and gone and I'll have earned a long soak in the tub.
In the meantime I wanted to remember that feeling, of bursting with light and watching it reflect across the faces along my walk this morning. I want to remember the way something in my head finally clicked, and the way I managed to react when the surly waitress first grumped at me. I need to remember that, if I'm ever going to return to work.
I need to remember how I overcame the beast. I need to drive it back into instinct, so that when I return to my desk I'll be inpenetrable, unperturbed, unstoppable. I need to practice it again and again so that I never find myself riled and reacting. I need to practice it because it is the next skill on my roster of accomplishments, the next plane on my rise to a place where I can affect change and...
...and something. I just need to learn to smile even when my adrenal gland urges me to do otherwise. I need to remember how brilliant it feels to be blazing with whatever it was that I was blazing with this morning -- and not let myself get dragged under again.
As often.
This morning I practiced feeling good, really. I got some exercise which did wonders for my back, I got out, got some sun, remembered the universe.
Tomorrow, furnace repairman willing, I might just do the same.