Life works when I don’t argue too much. I rise from writing and one word comes in — yoga.
So, I get on the mat.
I write more, pause, and again, one word — dishes.
Obediently, I head for the kitchen sink, to the dishes I made while preparing eggplant stacks, roasted vegetables, or baked greens with onions, mozzarella and a crusty top.
I do fine when I’m true to myself, follow simple inner instructions.
One time Eric asked me how I felt about the word obedient and I sputtered. Fumed. Spat.
Well, honey, I’m sure you’re smiling. Now I get it.