The End and the Beginning

I titled this post thinking about the end of the weekend and the beginning of the week. But so many things are ending, and so many beginning right now, I suppose it applies to the bigger picture too. I found myself unable to hold back tears at the Senior concert as I thought of how this was the end of an era, this decades-long push and pull to get N. and S. though school. The end of seeing my children and their friends growing up together. The end of being part of a community of parents and teachers working together to help these kids learn and grow, intellectually and spiritually too.

Yesterday I went to work after that visit to the Human Race, grocery store, and coffee shop. The library hosted 65 people for a California Poets in the Schools student reading. It was lovely, and I was glad I could spend part of my lunch peeking in on it. We hope to have the event at the library in future, too. I am all for making a connection between the library and the literary community.

I spent the evening indulging in chocolate, wine, and Netflix, wondering whether S. was enjoying the prom. N. picked her up, because I had it from reliable sources (especially S.) that no one really wants to be picked up from their Senior Prom by a parent. Perhaps she was thinking about the potentially silent ride back from Sonoma with D., the night driver of the team. At any rate, I went to bed early, trusting that all would be well in spite of my anxiety about the combination of a late Saturday night, post-prom drivers and country roads. I slept in late this morning, too. Very late. I probably got 12 hours of sleep, which (added with the iron) has made a world of difference to my state of mind. I also had a good workout at the gym and, as usual, ran some errands and took care of some correspondence. All things that had been weighing heavily on me. I also went to an event honoring our newest county poet laureate. I couldn't stay long, but it was important for me to be there.

It's funny how I set tasks for myself of my own design and then feel compelled to do them even when I don't feel up to it, and how I feel shamed if I don't do so. Blogging daily is a case in point. And yet, if we don't set tasks for ourselves that are in keeping with accomplishing the bigger goals, how can we get there? Writing daily is something I want to do, because I am owning (so new-age) the identity of writer. Hell's bells, as Nana would say. I am just saying that I want to be better at this, which is also to say I want a better understanding of myself and my life, and daily practice is necessary for such a thing.

I've been noting on a slip of paper those pages in the Sarton book with quotes I want to remember.

This is the most recent (from page 226):

Every new book is like a pilgrimage, a long long walk where faith in the eventual destination has to be renewed again and again.