connection

You have to make a space in your heart, in your mind and in your life itself for authentic human connection.

Marianne Williamson

I notice the fog when I let the dog out. I notice how it is densely suspended over the ponds behind our home. I notice how morning light is just breaking and how the day is yet to be tainted with expectations or presumptions. For right now, as I go about my morning routine of making the dog’s breakfast, grinding coffee for my latte, and looking for my glasses, the whole day is full of promise.

Soon the dog finds his way to the back door, ready to eat; his nose is wet and his tail wags with anticipation. We are both content for a few moments, and I ache to hold on to the balm of the morning.

He finishes up and wants to head back outside and I welcome the break to check my email and maybe take a peek at IG. Within a few moments however, irritation falls over me and I feel unsettled and agitated. I set my phone down and look out again at the fog. I try to identity just what it is I am feeling; not only emotionally, but physically as well. I remind myself to breath slow as I sip at my latte, and turn back towards the window. I notice woodsmoke now, streaming from the neighbors chimney behind us and a feeling of nostalgia flows through my veins. I notice birds in the trees, and a patch of blue sky behind the thickness of the trees. I tuck my phone away, turn off the ringer and reach for my book. I spend the next several minutes or so within the the sights and sounds of The Deschutes River. I read about caddisflies and tying trout flies and memories flood me, as I recall tying flies with my father. Soon a calm flows deep inside of me and I understand what I am feeling is life, my life.

As I put my mug in the sink, I see that morning is here now, the sun is out and there is a promise of a sunny day. I notice the dog, as he jets through the yard, chasing smells, his nose to the ground. I grab my camera and step out onto our deck just as he climbs on top of an of the old whisky barrel in the back yard. I meter my camera on the light behind him and click away. He is living the dream I think, always reaching, even if what he is after is out of his reach. He is full of curiosity and life. I would be lying if I didn’t say he is a handful, because he is. (Think Marley and Me but staring a beagle named Baker.) But he is also a joy.

I realize how I yearn for real connection and not the double tap of social media. I deactivate Facebook and seriously weed out my IG feed. I decide to take the month of December to fine tune the “why” of this space too; asking myself if I am looking for approval or really seeking to contribute something for my readers. I like to think it is the latter, but I am not always sure. Gone is my 365, tucked away privately for only my eyes to see while I ponder some new photo project.

so for now this is me:
woman, in her mid 60’s seeking real life, real connection, dog treats in all her pockets, part mermaid, part poet, always working on paying attention . . .

have a beautiful weekend,
Xo. Cathy

cathy sly