Thinking out loud.

Marathon Monday just passed, and I had a friend running it. I hoped the weather would cooperate–Boston is so gorgeous in the spring! I’d love to have stood out there, having found a promising spot, cheering her on enthusiastically and probably crying too. But alas and alack, it had other plans. Deluge would describe those plans. Cold, driving rain. Wind. Would the tourists stay away? Would they be inside the bars taking shots to stay warm and popping out every now and again to cheer on some of their beloved runners? I think the energy is so contagious on that magical day, though, that even the rain can’t dampen it. In fact, the rain may have even been viewed as an adversary. And against a common enemy, energy was only more ebullient. Runners’ high even higher. Tears flowing but who could tell them from the downpour?

I didn’t stay away entirely, though. We visited our friends in the city. They moved from Beacon Hill to the North End far too long ago for me to only just be visiting, but it finally worked and we had BLTs, and ate Q’s nuts bought in the Public Market, and talked about homeschooling, and being an introvert later in life, or maybe just better knowing what you like and what is important to you and not needing the rest. Where, at one point, maybe we feared we’d be missing out on something–say a night out, an event, what have you–now we are more content to just have our quiet space, or whatever bit of quiet space a busy life will allow you to carve out for yourself, anyway.

We made it back to the car, rain still coming down sideways, and just before we ducked into the garage, I took that top picture. Union Oyster House in there somewhere. A Boston mainstay since 1826 but I’ve never been. The boys were soaked, even through to their socks, and I said, “we’ll just take our shoes off once we get in the car!” They’re such troopers, and I tell them, “I love going on adventures with you guys.” I mean it. As an aside, I gave Anders that Transformer exactly one week ago Tuesday. He has not put it down for more than ten minutes since then. Even to sleep. I moved him from one bed to another recently–well into a deep sleep–and he woke just enough to mutter, “where is my Transformer?” I tucked it back into his open palm and he fell back to sleep.I’ve been trying to be better at listening to podcasts because, when I do, I find myself deeply satisfied. My mind is able to be quiet from its own chatter and I focus in on their voices, the cadence, the subject matter. Nothing new here, but Oprah’s is still a favorite. Her Eckhart Tolle episode being a particular good one. What he says about life being not about what happens to you but about your reaction to it is so incredibly poignant. Stress, pain, heartache aside, our reactions to those things are paramount. Sometimes it feels like I can only scratch the surface of what’s being said in certain podcasts. Like it’s something that will take years to learn and adopt. My best time for podcast-listening is in the car if the boys are listening to something of their own or watching a DVD in the car for a longer ride (longer rides are few and far between though) or when folding laundry. Sparse, but fulfilling.

When I was in the Hudson Valley with my sisters + Mom, we hooked up our Spotify to the house speaker system and every morning listened to my favorite playlist. Now, I’m sure I’ve shared it some places, but I can’t be absolutely sure so here I am sharing it for real. My sisters repeatedly asked, “what song is this?” “and this?” as it played, so I do believe it’s worth sharing and not just because I alone think so. I’ve added to it over the course of many, many months and I pretty much listen to it at some point of every day. Named “morning coffee” because it’s just that sort of playlist. Listen to it while you sip your tea, light a candle, have a quiet moment of your own.