It’s not my sensible calendar of appointments or endless lists of what I need to do. Instead, it’s a reflection at the end of the day of activities, encounters and ideas that “felt good.”
For example, yesterday I wrote 1.) unpacked and organized the living room, 2.) gathered books and activities for my after school Folk Tales and Fables class, 3.) made fried rice with broccoli and Swiss chard from my garden.
My critical voice, who at times sounds remarkably like my mother, wasn’t sitting on my shoulder telling me my house is a mess, lesson plans are due, or the garden needs attention. Instead I received playful ideas, as if a child was in charge.
I’m discovering the voice I want to hear, and share. And it’s located between my head and my heart.