I wanted to be a meteorologist for quite a portion of my childhood life until I learned that they did not get to pick the weather.
Though I expected there had to be some ratio of rainy days to sunny days, that I was going to have to pick “freezing” one day just because, I was particularly inspired by the idea of picking out the perfect weather for perfect moods… celebrations… events.
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As I wake up here on grey day #3, I feel a tinge of relief that people have not traveled all the way up here to have a several days without the Washington sunshine.
I could imagine myself apologizing and feeling responsible for the weather. I could hear my friends who lived up here at some point in their life reassure me with their, “girl – we knew what the likelihood was – it’s fine! It’s gorgeous.”
Golden hour would be no guarantee for our beer garden concert. Our morning coffee ceremony really would have required folks be as comfortable as I hoped they would come. Blankets of mix a matched colors. Hats if you need them. Your favorite jacket over a festive shirt. The irony of having over thought your outfit to be covered in a $8 Walgreens poncho. You know, that sort of thing.
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Personally, I am not unhappy about the grey. I find the bright grey sky makes the ferns beyond vivid, I feel them breathing. The fog over evergreen silhouettes gets me every time and I love a good grey day walk in the woods.
Brown, green and grey are power colors. Sacred.
As I continue to process the theme of control that I started sharing on this blog last night, I feel the need for growth especially now. Whatever kind of experience I am in, I feel my growth calling me to allow the story to unfold exactly as the weather reveals: to be prepared for but not bound by things like overcast, timing or moods.
You know, things of the greater connected world of experience completely beyond my control.
Sometimes the trait of a maximizer can create a mindset of management instead of a mindset of navigation. Prediction takes precedence over opportunism. Maybe even causing grief where and when you could be experiencing something new.
I think realizing what you are trying to control and make perfect is a phenomenon in and of itself: it combines your senses (wow, I feel anxiety) + requires your observation (here are the things at play) + your reflection (why?).
For ever and for always, this brings yoga forward: balancing the effort and the ease. When that edge of control is sharp, I feel it – and I back off. I relax. I think of what is reasonable. I trust the fact I feel anxious means I value something. I find the balanced – open – flexible way to value that same thing but without controlling.
I more easily come to middle ground.
And ….
I feel a lot less pressure than when I thought I was God.
Frozen Spaghetti 