Living plastic-free is actually a bit easier than I expected, except when it comes to food (but this still isn’t a food post, I promise!). I was a bit over-confident about how I could handle all the necessary planning. Organization is kind of my bag.

So I’m in the kitchen today, feeling self-pity about the hours I’m logging in meal prep (again), and also running around doing other boring life things, when that same boring life decides (again) to teach me a lesson I have been struggling to learn for, um, decades. The lesson is that one about control being an illusion. About a tight grip having the reverse effect from that intended. About moving through, as Pema Chodron would say, shenpa. Shenpa is resistance, getting stuck, or “hooked.” And since her way of discussing it is so beautiful, I’ll just drop that little angel here in case you want to take a peek:

So this danger of getting hooked always reminds me of the Margaret Atwood poem:

You fit into me
like a hook into an eye

a fish hook
an open eye

I’m hooked on my plastic-free project, hooked on my newest hobby (circus arts, below), hooked on my new puppy, and hooked on this dumb old dream of elusive perfection.

In the midst of my over-achieving, I TWISTED MY ANKLE, or hit a nerve or something, when a hefty shelf tipped onto my shin and foot. I’d like to say I took it in metaphorical stride (there have been no literal strides at all, and likely won’t be for a few days), but I didn’t. I felt that some outside force had cruelly snatched away the day’s momentum. I fretted over the unfinished projects.

Now, several hours later, I’m only *kind of* relaxing into being laid up. But that’s where I am. That’s today’s update.