Ready

Field Notes

I’ve thrown open the doors and windows, letting the quiet morning seep inside. The bamboo outside the sliding glass door throws shadows across the floor, swaying in the gentle breeze.

Geese honk on the island in the middle of the lake, and birds twitter and chirp in the large tree just beyond my courtyard. An Anna’s hummingbird flies overhead, its high-pitched song like miniature bells.

I can feel the wind on my face as it finds its way to me, swirling across the threshold as I sit in my favorite chair watching the day arrive.

I could sit here like this all day… or at least for a little while longer: David Lebovitz’s The Sweet Life in Paris on my lap, my cold brew coffee and cream balanced on the arm of my chair. The Eiffel Tower crawling up the side of my cup. Just breathing and being.

I have been heads down for weeks now. Waking at 5 a.m., sitting in meetings by 6:30 and 7 a.m., working into the night, and waking at 2 and 3 a.m., mind reeling. Yet, I’m feeling inside of my life, inside of my body, deeply connected, for the first time in a very long time.

I’m heading to Nashville next week, clicker in hand to deliver a ten-minute presentation as part of a larger keynote. I’m excited, and also know I still have a lot of practice ahead of me.

This is work I love to do: writing, creating narrative, delivering the message, in the spotlight.

I didn’t know this about myself until recently. This part of me who wants to share and wants to shine. Who is this girl, this woman… so comfortable in her own imperfect skin.

So, I’m doing this thing… wanna come?

If someone came to mind as you read… pass it on.