Monday, June 23, 2014

The hillside, the sunset, the reflection



In my annual ritual, I’m on the hillside at Donner Park, on the summer solstice (plus two days), watching the sunset, writing about the year previous and the year ahead. There is a cool breeze coming off the mountains behind me. I’m guessing the sun will dip below Antelope Island in about 10 minutes.

The past 12 months have been such a transition. I’m thinking about all I accomplished professionally – increased freelancing, leaving the newspaper – and the goals I didn’t quite reach. I really should be writing more than I am. Actually, I’m probably more than ever, but it’s mostly professional – words for others that I get a check in return, not the words that I wish I was typing. My blogging has sloughed off, and the ideas for other blog projects are still just that. How can I remedy that in the next year? The transition is still in progress, and I’m hoping by next year – ideally, much sooner than 12 months – I have my writing goals figured out.

Does that sound restless? We had such a busy spring, which coincided with me quitting the newspaper, that I am feeling restless. I feel summer zipping by even though it’s only been three weeks since school ended. I see things around the house I want to get to and haven’t. Every time I’ve been driving to a better weight, my efforts slow down and I settle into a few pounds heavier than I want to be (though I’m still lighter than I was six months ago). I spend a good amount of time with the boys but I wish it was more. 

Ben and I walked to get a snow cone last week, and it was the kind of moment I want to savor. The summer night was warm, and it was that or watch more TV. We made the better choice, even if the snow cones were way too sugary. Better choices are what’s going to get me to the goals I seek. I don’t think the choices have been necessarily been terrible, either. But there’s always room for improvement, and that space is what I need to traverse.

So as I sit here tonight, with the sun about to drop below the mountain ridge, I’m thinking ahead. If I felt on the verge last year, I feel ready to make the leaps I’ve been waiting to leap. Why wait?

Sunset achieved

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