What Would You Save?

Like all things that go sideways, I had a plan. 
I was going to jumpstart my writing this morning. The coffee was read to be brewed, I had my favorite mug, my journal and pen were out, I had set up a little nook in the postage stamp of a back garden that we have in Brooklyn. There would be sunlit morning skies, hot coffee, I had my phone in case I needed some music. I It was going to be perfect. I was going to hit the ground RUNNING. 
I woke up on time, made my coffee, wrote the date down at the top of the page ready for the genius that I had been ignoring to flow right out of me…and then I was like, “oh – I need a water. The brain needs water to function, what was I thinking.” Got myself a glass of water. Then, what good is a water without a snack? Just a little apple or something. Walked back into the apartment, and procured my snack. Time to WRITE! 
I stared at my computer screen for a strong 10 seconds, and promptly distracted myself again.
“Oh my god, that bird is beautiful/I need to have a sip of coffee/Don’t forget to hydrate, drink that water/I wonder what’s happening on instagram?!”
This continued at a dizzying clip until I was throwing so many things around on the tiny patio table I was using that I knocked over my coffee and water in one fell swoop. 
You know that game where you ask “if your house was on fire what would you grab?” In that moment, I found myself in a much lower stakes version of that game: if liquids were spilled, what would save – your electronics or your journal?
Without thinking, I grabbed the journal, and ran to the kitchen to pat its pages dry carefully and thoughtfully. I didn’t remember the phone until I came back to my seat outside and saw it covered in water. 
I am not sure if that has to do with the fact that I’ve been actively using my phone to drive myself to distraction lately. Grabbing it when I don’t need it for anything in particular, mindlessly scrolling when I am already watching tv, using it as a way to shut off my brain from feeling things that are hard or intense. 
Maybe it’s that the journal represents the opposite of that. I need to be purposeful when I am writing, its a choice and not a default. It’s impossible for me to write in conjunction with anything else. While I am writing is when I am the most unflinchingly aware of my thoughts, feelings and emotions – even the ugly ones. Those ones that can’t be made pretty even with the best filter. 
Making this small unconscious choice of focus vs distraction feels meaningful in this moment, probably because life has felt more full, but I’ve felt more empty. I am hopeful it means that I am going to start grabbing the things that fill up my cup, instead of empty it out, and that I take the time to focus on the real things, and not distract myself with the surface ones. 
The good news is that my journal is totally fine, not a word smudged or a page made wavy by water – it just has the faintest scent of coffee. An olfactory reminder to be present,  slow the fuck down. 

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