Enlightenment

My Yogi Tea bag comes with this message on the end of it: Appreciate yourself and honor your soul.

I take the bag of Stress Relief tea and place it in a mug of hot water, and I carry it to my desk to begin the process of writing. Appreciate yourself and honor your soul, the visible string reminds me. Moments before my tea break, I had just rearranged all of my furniture in a manic state of self care, and I had done thirty minutes of yoga on FaceTime with a friend. We talked our way through Shivasana. Now tea, right?Will that allow me to disconnect? Time to appreciate myself. Let the bag’s advice be your guide.

I light a candle that I bought from a metaphysical store. It’s called Full Moon and has notes of Palo Santo. The candle is filled with tiny amethyst crystals. I enjoy the smell and sound of the crackling wick. My fingers find my keyboard. Damn. I should clean off my desk. There is some sort of smudge on its clear glass top. What is that? Just a fingerprint, maybe. Where is that organic basil scented surface cleaner I just bought?

I go in search of the Mrs. Meyer’s Clean Day Multi-Surface Everyday Cleaner with-aromatherapeutic-properties-to-create-a-clean-and-happy-home so that I can just clean this one spot of my desk and finally be able to sit down and honor myself god damnit. I find the spray in my bathroom, which is littered with gym clothes. That reminds me to pile all of my clothes into a neat corner. But-I might as well carry it downstairs to the laundry room while I am thinking about it, right? It’s right here, I can do it real quick before I relax and find inner harmony or whatever. Before I begin the load, I check the washer for the phone that is in my back pocket that I am convinced is somehow in the washing machine. I riffle though longer than I should until I finally spank my own ass, find my phone, and walk upstairs to honor myself.

Back in my office I find that my tea mug has been flipped over by a ghost. There is no other explaination for it to be on the ground and forming a puddle. The irony of a mug with a “third eye” painted on it and it being knocked over is not lost on me. I can also clean this with the spray…….. which I just realize I never brought upstairs. Bloody hell, you dumb…. no. No. No. No. Appreciate yourself and honor your soul. Blame things on ghosts.

I go fetch another mug of hot water and open an new Yogi Tea Stress Relief tea bag. I read the new quote like its a fortune cookie. Grace is kindness, compassion and caring. On my way up the stairs, I grab the cleaning spray. The laundry will be forgotten about and never will be heard from again.