Today the view from my lap looks like this:
And it's pretty appropriate, because I seem to have lost perspective on a few things. Today's gentle reminders to myself include:
1. I will not die if I miss my publication deadline. I hereby declare that instead of going fetal every time I look at a calendar, I will calm the hell down and enjoy the PROCESS of sample knitting. The sun will still shine, the rain will still fall, and the front doorknob will still come off in my hand every third Wednesday, weather or not I achieve my literary goals.
2. While I acknowlede that there is more in the universe than my narrow little existience, I must also resist the pull of Project Lust; the force of nature that compells me to pick this, of all times, to take up, say, papermaking or sashiko quilting, or Renaissance dance. However focused I am on the project at hand, the instinct to begin something new gains power in direct proportion. I will stomp on this impulse, remembering that diluting my attention is the opposite of getting done.
3. I will be nice to my loved ones. Phillip has filled my car's cupholders with golf balls (your guess is as good as mine). The children insist that they exist solely to eat sugar and watch television. Even the kittens are climbing the walls (literally, using the draperies to belay one another). None of these things is intended as a personal assault on my well-being. They are just life. My life. However bizarre it may be. So the people/creatures I share time and space with deserve my love and patience, regardless of any other demands placed on me.
4. If these reminders fail to work today, I will remember that tomorrow is another gift I will be given, in which to try again.