I’ve spent the last year at home with my little family (which, as you know from the last two posts, now includes an adolescent dog) making almost nothing. It’s possible I’ve made less than nothing if you count the sweater I knit in 2019 but totally unraveled last week because I hate wearing it. My mind boggles that I, a yarn whisperer, beginning sewist, and generally pretty artistic person have made less than nothing in over a year. Even this blog has been blank until recently. I will say I have been cooking a lot. But much of what I cook is incredibly uninspired at this point. There is joy in feeding my people, and lately, I revel in that joy most when we order takeout.

At the beginning of the pandemic, I was sure I’d be making all kinds of things for however long it lasted. If none of us got sick, there’d be lots of creative time! And energy! But no, there wasn’t—not even in this wildly privileged household. This uninspired situation has felt a little unnerving and has made me wonder whether I actually am a person who thrives on creativity, like I thought I was. It has also made me worry that my creativity is gone forever.

She’s not gone, though! This morning, I noticed that my creativity is resting very comfortably somewhere inside me, with lots of pillows, a white noise machine, black-out window shades and a lavender-scented eye mask. Her phone is in airplane mode. The temperature is perfect and she is out. She will wake up when she’s ready, and if I do anything to her or for her right now, whether it be gentle poking or offering tea, she will sleep harder and longer.

She’s deeply tired. So I’m going to leave her alone and keep up with the things that have kept me going during the pandemic, including: Spanish, surfing, meditation, and exercise.

I love my weekly Spanish class. My Spanish teacher (who is in Costa Rica) kicks-off each of our remote learning sessions with a “rompe hielo,” or an “ice breaker.” I adore these games. I spend half the time asking her how to say most of what I want to convey and the other half of the time messing up my verb endings. Maybe my over-the-top facial expressions and hand gestures make up for my shortcomings? Even if they don’t, being able to actually have a conversation in Spanish (even if it’s simple) is pretty thrilling.

And speaking of thrilling, I started surfing in 2020. It’s hard, sometimes terrifying, and I love it. Time feels like it stops when I (finally) catch and ride a wave. I’ve never felt anything like it, and even as a beginner, I can’t get enough. I also love the feeling of being in another world, so close to nature. Last summer, on one unusually sunny, warm morning, Wyatt and I were sitting among a bunch of other surfers our boards. As the sun sparkled on the water, a pod of bottle-nosed dolphins came to play. We all watched them jump and swim, our faces split into wide grins. Only when they had passed did anyone get back to the business of catching waves. Another memorable moment was two weeks ago when I watched a harbor seal hunt and gobble up a fish as the gulls descended on the water, scrounging for leftovers. There’s something to watch every day if I’m paying attention. Take peilcans, for example. I’d happily watch pelicans every day. I don’t understand how they can look both hilarious and majestic at the same time, but they do.

I’ve also continued my meditation practice. I was initiated into the Vedic Meditation tradition in September, but I’ve been doing some kind of sitting practice every day for a few years (my Insight Timer app says today is my 1,184th consecutive day of meditation). I’ve added Yoga Nidra as a resting practice because what I’ve tasted of yogic sleep is amazing.

Finally, I would be nowhere without exercise. I am simply a better person when I exercise. When I don’t, I am super uncomfortable in my body, and I get really grumpy and unpleasant. Now that the Betty is better on the leash, I can take her on my big walks up and down the hills. It’s quite a look, me rucking in my weight vest, with the treat pouch, and waist leash around my middle, but nobody cares. Betty certainly doesn’t.