Half Way Point

My birthday is coming up. Two more days and I'll be 45. I don't want a cake because 1) Daniel can't have any regular old gluten-filled bakery cake (and I sincerely doubt that any other members of my family are going to attempt to make a gluten-free one) and 2) I'm trying to lose weight so cake is counter productive. The best birthday present ever was yesterday when Matt installed my lovely new/old dishwasher. Thanks to Carla for donating her not so very old dishwasher to me when she got a newer model. It's Bosch, it's sleek & stainless and I love it as much as one can love an appliance.

So... the birthday thing. There's no guarantees about anything, of course, but am I at the half-way point? What shall I do from here on out? I feel so often that I have been going from one day to the next doing what needs to get done, but not really *living*. Not being aware.

The title of this blog is from a Mary Oliver poem, the summer day, which ends like this:

"I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life? "

I haven't been kneeling in the grass today, it's just too wickedly cold for that! But I am in the middle of a lovely day spent with my family. We're going out tonight for my birthday because Wednesdays are just too busy. In this relaxing day there's time to write and think over life, its joys, its challenges, its blessings. Do a little laundry, do a little knitting, give and receive a lot of hugs.

I'm trying not to let the age thing bug me, but to deeply practice the gratitude I feel for all the wonderful people in my life. Breathe in, breathe out, repeat.