Yesterday I woke with a warm heart.
Do you know what I mean? You get out of bed without thinking you’re not good enough, that, yeah, you look in the mirror and your hair’s a mess and you really should exercise, but that you’re okay anyway. One of those days when you lay claim to 80 percent of yourself and say, “Not bad. I can work with this.”
When I wake/feel 80 percent, I care for people more deeply, even strangers. I want them to be 80 percent too. Living at 20 percent is rough; the heart aches as darkness enfolds and dreams slip far, far away, and then disappear.
At 20 percent they are but a fleeting memory. At 80 percent, the future reaches for you as the present widens its arms to embrace all the dreams you’ve ever had. “Choose one! Choose one!” the future smiles. The present smiles too. “Lay claim.”
That was yesterday. Today my 80 percent has, like the weather, plummeted. I am in the cold, cold 20s, through no fault of my own. I swear!
So what happened? Did an evil spirit slip beneath my covers during the night? Was it because I didn’t return my mother’s call or eat my vegetables? Is there a way to wrest back what had so recently been mine?
I guess I’ll have to wait until I’m back to 80 percent to figure out the shift. Until then, I’ll try to hold at 60.