By the way, just because you are alive, doesn’t mean you feel alive.
Our winter has been mild. It snowed a few times in December and was quite cold, but January and February have been odd months; mild, thirties and forties for highs, and no snow.
It is so strange to not be freezing my ass off as I get plastered with snow behind the snow blower every couple of days as I clear off my gigantic driveway and my friend’s as well. He has the nerve to winter in Florida.
It has been what we call an uncharacteristically mild winter. But a mild winter here is another way to describe week after week of overcast skies and damp, windy conditions. We have gone weeks without seeing the sun. It’s not horrible, but neither has it been the kind of weather to take a nice, enjoyable walk.
Yesterday was. It was in the sixties and it was blissfully sunny.
Thank you, God! Seriously, it was a huge blessing.
Patty and I found ourselves headed to Cedarburg, Wisconsin for their annual Winter Festival. We found it both ironic and amusing to see Cheeseheads wearing shorts at their Winter Festival in February.
The many ice sculptures on Washington Avenue were melted into rounded lumps surrounded by puddles, with an occasional tourist tilting her hear sideways trying to figure out what it used to be. But who cares, it was warm. That’s why the street was choked with people. No doubt, a record turnout.
Yesterday, we ate great food, saw interesting people and their their dogs, as well as things that informed us of the town’s colorful history. I felt like I was released from prison.
I don’t always feel alive, even though my pulse is just fine. I think I live on an emotional edge and am more susceptible to depression than some people.
I need that alive feeling, it’s my 5-Hour Energy. I suppose when you take that stuff and the five hours is up, you feel a let down. The emotional pain of a let down, or lack of enjoying a passionate pursuit, or at least something that occupies the mind, is palatable.
Feeling alive, loving a pursuit, being entirely present in the moment, and celebrating every little blessing is very good medicine.
I had planned for this post to be about writing, but the introduction became the post. It happens. I guess that is evidence of my love of writing, something a few years ago, I thought I would never say.
First and foremost, writing is therapy. It is an escape. It is a way to make sense of things, or a means of getting away from them for awhile; which is interestingly a lot like reading, but only better. We read, we write, and then we are able to come back to our present reality and do whatever needs to be done.
I have learned that most important reason to write is because you enjoy it and the most important person to write for is yourself. When that also connects with another person, it’s magic.
I hope you truly feel alive today.
I wrote this post on Sunday. The day after our visit to Cedarburg.