Hello, dear Daybreak Notes readers! I know, it’s been a long, long while since I’ve posted in this space. I hope you all are well.
I wrote a note this morning to Winter Camp, a virtual gathering I’m hosting for the next 4 weeks, and it reminded me of a Daybreak Note. I thought you might appreciate it, too.
What’s Winter Camp? It’s sort of like Daybreak Notes plus friend meetups. I send out a reflective prompt every weekday, and we meet on Zoom, too. On Saturday 10-11 a.m. we’ll be doing DanceMandala together, a moving meditation, for example. We are only a few days in, so you can still sign up! Use CAMPTIME for $20 off. Visit the Winter Camp site for more.
In my house, someone is turning 10 this week. "Double digits!" he tells me. "I'll never be single digits again!" He vacillates between excitement and mourning this passing. He is keenly aware that the littlest years of his life are slipping by.
I feel the same elation and sadness. Truly, nothing will be that different from last week to next week. He'll still be cuddling the same stuffed animals and wearing this same kid clothes, reading the same Spy School books, playing the same Minecraft realm.
But a birthday makes us look up and take notice. A number switches. A year has passed. Time is moving. Change is happening.
Seasons have a similar effect as birthdays do. The calendar seems to flip in a blur, but the seasons make you stop and take notice. The trees are pointed about it: They go from blank branches to green buds to lush leaves to blazing colors to browning ... and back to the barren winter branches.
Right now, the leaves are flaming out in New York. They are almost done, drifting down to the ground in their crinkly, wrinkly, paper-like state, all crunch and no verdant verve. A season has passed. Time is moving. Change is happening.
In the middle of this change, it can be so helpful to stop and SEE the day.
Freeze frame it. Really notice it. Seal it in your memory.
The trees.
The sky.
The temperature on your skin.
The face of a person you love right in front of you, or on Zoom. See their eyes, their expression, their body language. See it all over again, as if it's new.
Listen, too.
The sound of the outdoors.
The sound of the indoors.
The sound of the voices that fill your days.
Sometimes I imagine myself 10 years from now. My son will be 20. I'll be nearly 55.
To flash back in time from then to now would be magical.
Here is today's reflection:
Notice the day. Really see the people, the world, your habits, yourself — see it as if it will all be different in a decade, and you have the chance to be fully present today, in this sliver of your life, before it disappears.
What does now look like to you?
What do you notice?
I hope you have a lovely day ahead.
Take care,
Brianne
p.s. In case you are curious, here are the 3 Rules of Winter Camp
Winter Camp was created to be a special online space of lovely connection and encouraging community. We make this happen through these three rules:
1) Be Kind — to others and yourself 💕
2) Be Open — realize our particular bodies and our life experiences are different, and be willing to be curious and learn something new.
3) Be Encouraging — help nudge each other and ourselves, and when hard things come up, offer space and support.
Let's transform the cold, dark season into something special together.
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