My Perfect Day, Part 1: The Vision

Warning: extra post ahead! Supposedly I only publish on Mondays and Fridays, but when I read Molly Greene’s post, with its inspiring writing prompt to detail what I “really, really” want, I determined I’d best get to it. This post is, given how I’m approaching it, going to be in two parts. I’ll publish part two later today.

The Writing Prompt

Quoting from the post (my emphasis): “Write down the story of your perfect day, as you mentally walk through it. Are you living your dreams? Write about how you made that happen and how grateful you are. Are you almost there? Write about that. Are you light years away? So be it, write down what your heart tells you you’d love to be doing, if you were living your perfect life. Begin at the beginning: What do you see when you open your eyes first thing in the morning? What does your room look like? What does your bed feel like? Where are the windows; is the sun streaming through? What time is it when you wake up? How do you feel? How does the morning progress? Do you leave the house or work from home? What kind of work do you do? Are you alone or with others?”

I believe the thought behind the prompt is associated with Rhonda Byrne’s The Secret, with which I’m very familiar. I have witnessed, and benefited from, the power of visioning.

The thing about creating a vision is this: once created, and if you really, really want it to manifest, you have to be proactive; you have to take steps toward it, however small they may be. In other words, you can’t be passive about it; you have to participate in it. Therein lies the true power.

The Vision

The early-morning sun is peeking through gently billowing curtains. I awaken with the natural rhythm of my body; no need for an alarm clock. I stretch my limbs and back, and then place my hands lightly over my face; the starting position for my daily Reiki practice.

With Reiki self-practice complete, I stand and face the eastern window for a sun salutation; the starting position for my daily Yoga practice. After savasana, which is brought to an end by my affectionate cat, I rise and pad into my serene bathroom, where I drink the first of several tumblers of water, and wash up.

Fresh from my shower, clad in a light cotton blouse and easy linen pants, I make a hearty and healthy plant-strong breakfast in my cheerful eat-in kitchen, and enjoy it with a mug of hot coffee. With no television or radio to distract me, I ponder my schedule for the day in gratitude, and admire the birds at the feeder outside the open window.

The morning hours are dedicated to writing. I add a couple thousand words to my work in progress, write a post for one of my sites, and another post for a popular national site. When I’m done, I check email and social media sites, and respond to comments on posts I’ve published.

In the afternoon, after a nourishing lunch on my screened-in porch, I practice Reiki on three clients, one after the other, in my detached Reiki studio. When the last client has left, I tidy the studio before setting out on a two-mile walk around my neighborhood. I wave at passing cars, call greetings to children playing, and to adults taking advantage of the late-afternoon warmth.

Back home, I prepare supper for five to a soundtrack of eclectic music flowing from discrete speakers in my open-plan living space. Friends arrive bearing wine and dark chocolate. Lilting laughter, easy conversation, and grace fill my beautiful minimalist cottage with love and joy.

In the residual glow of the gathering, I wash dishes, wipe down stove and table, and tidy the kitchen while I talk to my mother on the phone, and we share our days. Afterward, I set the kettle to boil for tea, then change into comfortable pajamas.

Steaming tea in hand, I settle into my desk chair and increase my current work’s word count by another thousand. I clear my inbox, invest fifteen minutes in social media, then close my laptop.

I take my tea and my Kindle and ease onto my chaise. My cat curls up on my lap, her purr vibrating soothingly against my thighs. A soft breeze ruffles my hair. I slip into another writer’s world for a spell, until my heavy lids dictate bed time is at hand.

Settled on the cloud of mattress, I recount my day without judgement. I whisper a prayer for family and friends, give thanks for my blessing-rich life, and drift away on sleep’s peaceful stream.

What does your perfect day look like?

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