It’s another cold and rainy November day in New England. Some friends farther north were lucky enough to wake up to snow.
Here, it’s 37℉ and raining steadily. It would be very easy for me to slide into my usual crabby mood about this, my least favorite type of weather. It would be easy for me to complain about how rainy it’s been all fall.
Being in a new place, I don’t really have a sense of how atypical this year’s weather pattern has really been. People here assure me that it’s been wetter than normal. But what does normal look like?
Perhaps I’m more on edge about it because I don’t have that baseline of normal in this new experience. Similarly, I found myself a little on edge on Halloween night. A new place, a new routine, no baseline for how many trick or treaters we would get (I ran out of candy in the first hour), no fireplace to sit in front of while the kids dumped out their loot, arranging, cataloguing and trading candy.
Halloween turned out to be fun in the end. The kids had the experiences they wanted to have. And I’ve made a mental note to buy twice as many treats for next year. The second time around, we will all know what to expect. And we will look back at our first Halloween experience here and see how things have changed in a year. There’s something comforting about marking time in this way.
As for the weather, today I’m choosing to see it as an invitation to hunker down at home. I had originally thought I’d head in to get a new set of tires. But who wants to drive thirty minutes in the rain on bald tires to sit in a cold and echo-y mechanics shop that smells of cigarettes?
It’s cozy in the house; I’ve set up camp at the big farm table in the kitchen with an electric heater at my feet. Outside, the trees seem to be waiting patiently, unperplexed by the rain. Soon enough, they’ll be creaking under the weight of icy snow.
I’m energized by claiming my choice of perspective: it’s warm and cozy and quiet in the house. I have the space and focus I need to get some work and chores done. And by mid-afternoon, I can steal away to a favorite chair with a cup of tea and book of poems and wait to be greeted by children arriving home.
How might a perspective shift help you today?
Here, it’s 37℉ and raining steadily. It would be very easy for me to slide into my usual crabby mood about this, my least favorite type of weather. It would be easy for me to complain about how rainy it’s been all fall.
Being in a new place, I don’t really have a sense of how atypical this year’s weather pattern has really been. People here assure me that it’s been wetter than normal. But what does normal look like?
Perhaps I’m more on edge about it because I don’t have that baseline of normal in this new experience. Similarly, I found myself a little on edge on Halloween night. A new place, a new routine, no baseline for how many trick or treaters we would get (I ran out of candy in the first hour), no fireplace to sit in front of while the kids dumped out their loot, arranging, cataloguing and trading candy.
Halloween turned out to be fun in the end. The kids had the experiences they wanted to have. And I’ve made a mental note to buy twice as many treats for next year. The second time around, we will all know what to expect. And we will look back at our first Halloween experience here and see how things have changed in a year. There’s something comforting about marking time in this way.
As for the weather, today I’m choosing to see it as an invitation to hunker down at home. I had originally thought I’d head in to get a new set of tires. But who wants to drive thirty minutes in the rain on bald tires to sit in a cold and echo-y mechanics shop that smells of cigarettes?
It’s cozy in the house; I’ve set up camp at the big farm table in the kitchen with an electric heater at my feet. Outside, the trees seem to be waiting patiently, unperplexed by the rain. Soon enough, they’ll be creaking under the weight of icy snow.
I’m energized by claiming my choice of perspective: it’s warm and cozy and quiet in the house. I have the space and focus I need to get some work and chores done. And by mid-afternoon, I can steal away to a favorite chair with a cup of tea and book of poems and wait to be greeted by children arriving home.
How might a perspective shift help you today?
 | Jessica Curtis is a professional coach who helps people cultivate intention and live from a place of meaning and authenticity. If you think you could benefit from working with Jessica or want to invite her to work with your group, reach out to start a conversation. |
Sign-up to receive my newsletter and blog to your Inbox:
RSS Feed
