Does the beginning dictate the end?

Alert: Massive British stereotype ahead! Don’t say I didn’t warn you! ?

The weather here is weird! (And not the wonderful weird I wrote about last week.) After a lovely few days last week, today, if it wasn’t for the crazy humidity, would be bordering on cold. What’s that about?!?

It hasn’t stopped me working outside though. Okay yes, it was a nicer experience last week but it’s still lovely to be working in the fresh air. I have the sound of the beach in my ears as I write. I’ve just finished a rather lovely coffee. It really is, on paper at least, a little bit dreamy.

The funny thing is, the day didn’t start like that. It started with me feeling tired and was swiftly followed by my rushing around play errand keeper for my youngest daughter, all for no apparent reason as it turns out. (Don’t you just hate it when that happens?!?)

If the start of the day had been any indicator of what the rest of the day would entail, it was destined to be a horrible stressful kind of a day. But surely the very beginning of something doesn’t have to be all there is?

Take babies by way of example. They’re a lot of work. They eat, sleep, cry and poop. And sure, they’re kinda cute, but that’s pretty much all they have going for them. Their beginning isn’t all there is. They’re not destined to remain forever thus.

Or take the child who has a horrific entry into the world. We’ve probably all met mothers who relish telling their birth stories, clearly still scarred by the experience. That beginning can’t be all there is.

If in the big things, like bringing a whole new person into the world, we cut people some slack, why can’t we do the same for day to day life?

Right here, right now, based on this one snippet, this one moment in this day, today is brilliant. It’s like my favourite quote says:

“Every day may not be wonderful, but there’s something wonderful in every day.”

We choose what to give our attention to. I’m choosing right now, to notice the way the little breeze is making a blade of grass dance. I’m choosing to notice the gentle trickling noise from my next door neighbour’s pond. I’m choosing to notice the feeling of calm and contentment. I’m choosing to notice the warmth of the wood under my feet.

What if instead I chose to notice every time a car travels a little too fast down the road? Or if I chose to notice the occasional banging noise from three doors down where plasterers are working? Or if I chose to notice the areas of the garden where the weeds are getting (more than a little!) out of hand? Or if I chose to notice that annoying motorcycle that just put-putted its way down the road?

It’s all a choice.

Both versions of this moment are real, they’re happening simultaneously, dancing around one another and overlapping, but we filter in more of the things we pay attention to. (Yes, it’s that darn reticular activating system again!)

Whether your day started brilliantly or was a little bit bumpy, there’s always time to turn it around. You only have to choose.

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