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during the quiet...i almost...

liz lamoreux

I almost wrote about how far away I feel from my daily practice. I haven't done yoga in weeks. I haven't meditated or chanted much lately. I hold on to the intention of lighting candles and the ritual of blowing them out and sending blessings to others, and I am thankful for this. Yet, I know I am the most balanced when I have a daily practice that is physical, mental, and spiritual.

I almost wrote about the different ways friendships end. Sometimes people just drift apart, sometimes something "happens," sometimes someone lets you know the friendship is ending, sometimes you are just confused about why, sometimes you decide to set a boundary, sometimes you never understand, sometimes there is no reason at all really, sometimes you just feel sad about it long after it happens…but mostly I wanted to write about how letting go is okay.

I almost wrote about the visual journey I took while receiving a massage a few weeks ago. A journey that involved being underwater with the whales and feeling as though they were nudging me in greeting and telling me that it was okay to just breathe and not fear the water.

I almost wrote about how I am trying to find the balance in blog world of connecting and reaching out and having a life away from the computer.

I almost wrote about how an unexpected root canal brought up the claustrophobia I experienced for the first time last year. And, how I sat there in the dentist's chair and made the choice not to give in to a full-blown freak out moment.

I almost wrote about how sometimes walking away is the only answer.

I almost wrote about how much I wished you hadn’t walked away.

I almost wrote about the paradox of taking the Handmade Pledge but planning to vacation at a place that is perceived as a center of consumerism (even if it is, to me, one of the happiest places on earth).

I almost wrote about finally realizing I have two jobs (editing world and art+craft world) and the challenges this brings at times.

I almost wrote about how there is an expectation that we are to move on from difficult moments and experiences when things are "right" or "not so bad" again. That because it has been a few weeks/months/years or someone is okay or that you don't have cancer or that you are better off without a person and on and on…that because things are "fine" you are to dismiss whatever emotions surfaced when things weren't fine and the echoes of those emotions that live within you.

I almost wrote about how we never really know how our words might hurt another. We never really know that they might be sitting on the other end of the phone or email trying to catch their breath. I almost wrote about trying to catch my breath.

I almost wrote about how much this time of year invites a deep missing in my heart…how sad I am that it seems Disney no longer make the dated ornaments my grandmother bought me every year…how all I really want for Christmas is a pair of soft around the house socks from her to replace one of the last pairs she gave me because they are getting a bit threadbare in places.

I almost wrote about how lately I have been missing the idea of Indiana. The days of living near my parents have long passed. And, today, I almost wrote about how I wished I had paid more attention.