River Brown

November, already.  Midsummer I checked in on my one little word for the year, immunity.  I didn’t think I needed a booster in summer, as I was doing very well.  Yet, this morning, I picked up a droning voice message from a Kaiser doctor, impressing upon me how serious and sometimes lethal the influenza virus is.  He expounded on the importance of bringing my entire family in for the latest flu vaccination.

If my immunity runs out, or my emotional immune system gets weakened, then I could get the downers from various coworkers.  However, most of them are happier this year, too, so the risk is not so high.  A real physical case of the flu might be more likely, what with the dangerous germ pool where I teach.

Immunity to my own weird thoughts is worth attention at this season.  The daylight savings game is on, which means it is pitch dark when I get home from school.  I am getting used to the idea that it really isn’t late when night falls, but I don’t like the shortened daylight.

Winterish thoughts are sometimes just mrrrr, mrrr, mrrrr and bhhh, bhhh, bhhh.  They go along with the waning light and dried up leaves.  The daytime temp is still warm, balmy even, but evenings are chilly and early mornings are damp.  It just feels as if I get out of bed and go to work then come home, do some chores and read in bed and go to sleep.  The cycle feels like a cocoon.  Very dull, compared with endless summer days filled with variety.

My cat is chummier now, too.  He is not sleeping in the garden so much.  At this moment he’s grooming himself next to me on the bed.  I can’t possibly sleep as much as a cat, however long the winter seems.

So I do need an immunity booster against the winter blag.  It is a time when I can get (or feel) trapped in routine and dip into mild depression.  To return to daily meditation would be a mind vitamin.  I would have to get it going somewhere in early evening.  The exer-cycle and arm weights, plus a healthy breakfast with hot tea, get my early morning ritual slot.

My mediation habit was interrupted by renovating the room where I used to sit.  Now it is a walk-in tub spa, very pretty, and I could easily park a little candle an yoga mat in there.  Hmm.  Return. Hmm, why not?

Here’s another reason writing is good for you — especially on evenings like this when I really didn’t feel like writing.  It got me thinking about self care in a helpful way and it gave me a bit of space to reflect and not just feel my glumphy, tired self not liking the dark days.

The Two Writing Teachers had a little sign on their site, “Write.  It’s good for you.”

Yep.