Sunshine Sunday

The day started slowly. I took my time. The Kicking Horse Grizzly Claw coffee so dark in my cup, I sip slowly. The laundry is running again, redone because both my house guest and I put soap in so it was an explosion of bubbles creeping out the door. After four rinses the sheets are floating around and around in clear water.

I listen to CBC and learn about the Dunning Kruger Effect when people misjudge how much they know. Basically, knowing a little bit is dangerous but knowing more means individuals know what he or she doesn’t know. Got it?

Then I boil some potatoes with no plan. It is, after all, a Sunday and calls for a kind of vagueness.

I can still feel the nagging pain of tight muscles across my shoulders from my four days of shovelling snow. It was fun at the time. I felt powerful and useful. Somehow I invested the act of destroying the obstructing snow plow wall with some virtuous behavior in action.

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The day is in between. It is not cold nor is it warm. There is no snow falling or predicted. But the sun comes out only like a feather’s brush of warmth on the skin and then disappears.

I think about the idea of a day holding promise. Each promise to the self, each action moves us closer to a new future. When I first wake up, I visualize the day bringing in gifts. I visualize myself moving into new habits and toward new possibilities. It is a dance. I move toward it. It moves toward me.

What will happen next has already been triggered on past days. What will happen far into the future is being created now. It is all a dance.

I sip my dark coffee and think about all of the things I don’t know yet. I fully understand the Dunning Kruger Effect. To know what I don’t even have a shadow of understanding about what I don’t yet know is to float in possibilities. I will be open. I commit to Sunday’s soft edges and shifting sunshine.