both/and
A cooling front came through this weekend. (I call it a “cooling front” instead of a “cold front,” because, well … Houston.) It was enough to drop the humidity drastically, and the temperature was in the eighties. It was a glorious weekend — the kind of weather that I imagine that folks who love summertime actually experience in the summertime. I stopped writing enough to go outside and enjoy it for a little while.
At the same time, as I write this, there’s a storm brewing in the Gulf of Mexico, and it looks like it’s headed in our direction over the next few days. I have a bit of anxiety around this — not just because of our adventures with Hurricane Harvey seven years ago, but also because Hurricane Beryl wreaked some havoc at our house just a few months ago. I’m just tired of dealing with power outages, floods and downed trees, man.
It’s a strange thing, to sit in the duality of both/and. And we do it all the time: I’m finishing up a manuscript this week, sitting in the exhaustive slog of making it to the finish line, and I’m feeling some anticipation about the start of a crazy-busy speaking season, all over the country, and even overseas. I’ve got a bit of apprehension about how I’m going to tackle all the work I have between now and the end of this year, and I’m already starting to feel a bit of excitement, dreaming about what 2025 might look like. Exhaustion/Anticipation. Apprehension/Excitement.
Both/And.
My hope for all of us this week: that if we’re facing the duality of both/and, we remember to take the joy of the good and use it to ground us to thoughtfully and methodically face challenges ahead.
And of course, I hope we remember to breathe.
don't forget to mark the milestones.