I have a magic magnifying morbid mind. I think that Grammie dying suddenly when I was four years old implanted the idea that something horrible could happen at any minute, and my imagination went wild and never stopped. My interminably long recovery from sciatica and the current U.S. political horror have only exacerbated the scariness. When I head down a frightening path, I'm developing the practice of dragging my thoughts in a more positive direction, while giving myself credit for my vivid imagination. I'll say to myself, "Good one! But that's not helping my mood, let's go elsewhere." That same imagination that scares me also enables me to paint, garden and write a blog.
Less terror, please!
Leta
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| Nature's beauty in our neighborhood |
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