The Beauty of an Ordinary Day
Finding joy in what is already here
#50
Today marks two weeks since Tim headed back to Oregon and the lake. He's been enjoying reconnecting with friends and family, tackling projects around his house, and after years without one, buying a boat that is going to bring us a very different kind of summer on the water. I can already picture afternoons on the lake and new adventures ahead.
Here in Texas, life has gotten quieter. Not lonely, just quieter.
I've been resting more, reading, meditating, taking early morning walks before the heat settles in for the day, and enjoying a couple meals with new friends. Tim and I miss each other, but we are also very good at growing in our own spaces and allowing each other room to do that.
One thing that has changed is my sleep. I've found myself going to bed early and then waking up in the middle of the night, sometimes for hours at a time. This used to be a usual thing for me. In the past I might have fought it. Now, I've been treating it as an invitation. I'll meditate, sit quietly, listen, and hopefully drift back to sleep.
I do love these quiet moments. The things that bring me the most joy are often the simplest things. Lunch with a new friend yesterday reminded me of that. We had one of those conversations where both people show up in authenticity, just two people sharing what is real.
She reflected back to me how healthy it seemed that Tim and I could spend time apart without jealousy or insecurity. The comment surprised me because it isn't something I think about. We both trust each other and understand that love doesn't require constant proximity to remain strong.
That same week I posted a reel about seeing a white crane here (which a follower informed me was actually a great egret. I laughed and happily accepted the correction.) The bird itself wasn't really the point. What struck me was how much joy I felt simply stopping long enough to notice it.
I see a white crane often at the lake in Oregon, and in that moment I felt connected across time and distance. Energy is always connected, and life has a way of offering little reminders if we are paying attention.
I've been noticing the birds here everywhere. They sit on the railing of my empty balcony and sing. Tiny birds. Pigeons. Birds whose names I don't even know. I’ll stop what I'm doing just to listen.
And when I walk outside, the sounds are everywhere. Hundreds of birds carrying on conversations with each other while sunlight dances across the lake. It's funny how quickly something can become ordinary if we stop seeing it. I’ve always loved and appreciated it, and it continues to fill my heart and soul. I never want to take that for granted.
The same thing happened recently while walking a small path in my community lined with art installations. I shared a reel about that too because it brought me such unexpected happiness. Nothing extraordinary, but taking time to appreciate what might otherwise be overlooked. The world is full of these small invitations, and I love to notice them.
I also met with the general contractor for my new home, and they will break ground next week with completion expected sometime in December. Several people have asked whether I feel comfortable leaving Texas for part of the summer while the house is being built. Another question that surprised me.
I do feel comfortable leaving. Not because I know everything will go perfectly, but because I have the information I need right now. I trust the builder, who has been family-owned for more than fifty years. I trust my own experience after nearly twenty years in real estate. And if something comes up, I'll handle it then. Why spend today's energy worrying about a problem that doesn't exist?
Most of the things we worry about never actually arrive.
Last week my body offered me a similar reminder.
After a hard workout and some time outside listening to an outdoor concert in the heat, my heart suddenly went into a rapid rhythm that I hadn't experienced in years, and of course it got my attention immediately.
As I slowly made my way back to the apartment, stopping in the shade a couple of times to rest, I realized how easy it is to believe we are invincible when everything is going well. Thankfully, within a few minutes of getting back into cool air, my heart returned to normal. Years ago, episodes like that happened much more frequently while I was trying to understand my thyroid issues.
This time I received it differently. I had some fear, but also curiosity. What was my body asking me to notice? What was it asking me to slow down and pay attention to? Perhaps it was simply reminding me that paying attention isn't just about noticing the birds and the lake. It's about noticing myself too. What I do know is that life feels richer when I pay attention to it.
Not just the big milestones, but the birds and the gorgeous light on the water. A meal shared with friends, beauty along a walking trail. Quiet moments in the middle of the night and then seeing the sky lighten. These are the things that shape a life, too.
That is what this time is teaching me. Not to search for more or rush ahead, but to notice what is already here. Because sometimes the most beautiful parts of life aren't hidden at all. They're simply waiting for us to pay attention.
To your highest and best,
Dianna
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