Blurry

Living gratefully today, I appreciate our dog Oliver and the many ways he is predictable as well as unpredictable. He brings me smiles daily. 

The word blurry has been stirring around in my head, and now it wants to be heard, or rather read. 

Blurry--what happens to my vision at times when my glasses fog up when wearing my masks. I have tried a variety of ways to help with this fogging, but nothing is totally effective. It can be frustrating, a cause for pause, and a reminder that in the whole scheme of things this is minor. 

Blurry--what has happened to my memory these last months. More than it was already happening in my middle-aged, menopausal brain. Many details are forgotten, more memories vague or barely retrievable. I am left grateful that I can write things down. 

Blurry--the line between what to do and what not to do in many instances in these Covid times. Should we go or not?  Am I doing enough to stay safe at work, and keep others safe?  Err on the side of caution and the right choice is more apparent. At the end of the day, I want to be comfortable in saying I did all that I could. 

Blurry--the future is more uncertain, less predictable. It's always been that way folks. We just thought we had more control than we do. Surrender. Let go. Stay in today. 

Even my beliefs that the good emerges, love wins, and gratitude is always possible sometimes get blurry.  Not for long though . . . coming back into focus when I pause in gratitude or a mindful prayer. 

Blurry can be unsettling, but it only leaves us blind if we let it. Open eyes. Open heart.