It's Writer's Festival weekend, yay! Even the birds seems to be chirping their approval; I have a particularly vocal duo (band? troupe?) singing away outside my window as I huddle over my desk. It is properly cold, in this Auckland transplant's opinion, and I am alternating between typing and cupping my hands around my tea mug for warmth.
My friend, L, is up to take part in the weekend's festivities with me - "Jovita, it's our Coachella," she said while buying tickets. I am very much looking forward to traipsing around Auckland's city centre with L. Queen Street and its surrounds were our daily stomping grounds during that first year in Auckland, and we'll no doubt have much to reminisce over as we return to its grimy glory.
The event comes at the end of a particularly piecemeal week. Despite being absolutely fine on Sunday, I woke up with what I knew were the beginnings of a cold on Monday, but chose to ignore all symptoms and went to school anyway. Cut to me sneezing all over the place and asking my class if they could please, please take Miss Manickam's sore head into consideration as they went about their work; I had just enough strength to gather up supplies at the supermarket before collapsing into bed for the next couple of days.
I'm feeling much better, on the whole. Still a little snotty and lethargic, as one is wont to be after coming down with a cold, but largely on the up. Being propped up in bed with nowhere to go naturally lends itself to some serious introspection and reflection, and I've been engaging in both this week, trying to honestly consider the contours of my life and see if things are shaping up as they ought. The answer to this, I've come to the gently-startling realisation, is 'no.' Acedia has crept in. Essential things have been lowered in priority, shortcuts have been taken here and there, and all of this has led to barely-held-together days that I know do not align with my values.
The good thing about coming to such a realisation, of course, is that now I can do something about it. As I was having my quiet time this morning, I felt prompted to offer up specific prayers of petition. Okay, I thought; I began to write out in painstaking detail what exactly it was I was asking the Lord to help me with on this day and in this season. As I wrote, I got the sense that these prayers really were being seen by the Lord - that they were as close to his heart as they were to mine.
Joy is a powerful place to work from. So is contentment and so is integrity. I am seeking to cultivate all three on the daily and I can't wait to taste their fruit.
Reading: one of Julia Turner's recent recommendations on Culture Gabfest, an expansive and compelling work of non-fiction entitled, Worn: A People's History of Clothing. Sofi Thanhauser examines her lifelong love for clothes as she considers the history of five fabrics: linen, cotton, silk, synthetics, and wool. I have been alternately horrified and delighted by the practices surrounding these materials and it has made me want to make my own wardrobe choices a lot more carefully.
Listening to: The new Taylor Swift album (yes, I've come around). But also Maggie Rogers' truly excellent new album, Don't Forget Me. Favourites include 'If Now Was Then,' 'Never Going Home,' and especially, 'The Kill.'
Watching: After an extended hiatus, I have renewed my Netflix subscription and been reunited with my beloved Gilmore Girls. I've missed their quips and Stars Hollows' warmth so much. I know that it's all a construction, but it's a construction I'll willingly enter into for the upcoming winter months.
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