[a practice in doing your best.]

sweep the floors in your house 

towards the front door. 

collect and dispose of any 

debris immediately, 

and take it out of the house. 

record this process.

return and form a list. 

list all the things that bring you joy. 

record them. 

sit in front of a mirror or bowl of water,

name all the things you cannot see.

now envision your future,

what are all the necessary things?

the unsaid dreams?

record them.

create a mix tape of your recordings.

remember to thank yourself

for your 

generosity and kindness, 

even if you struggled.

Reflections.

I could do no more. My body ached from the long hours awake, stressed and frustrated. I reminded myself to take it one day at a time, but felt the weight of finals season collapsing on me. Yrsa Daley-Ward's poem, Mental Health, creates a score of actions to disrupt their battle with depression: 

"If you did not get up for work today

If it has been afternoon for hours

And the silence is keeping you awake.

If you only remember how to draw your breath

in and out like waves of thick tar cooling

If you are wishing it later,

pulling the sun down with your prayers, leave the damn bed.

Wash the damn walls. Crack open a window even in the rain, even in the snow.

Listen to the church bells outside.

Know that however many times they chime is half the number of 

changes you have to make." 

This poem aided me in re-centering what is enough. Enoughness isn’t reliant on limitless production. Sometimes opening the window to clear the air is enough. Sometimes slowing down is enough. Allowing your body to rest is also work. You are producing energy. 

When creating this score, I considered what sustainably doing your best looked and felt like. What is my best when working and simultaneously adapting to an unknown future? What does my best feel like as I grieve loved ones, isolation, and the unknown, daily? 

I thought about ways that I nurture myself, and ways I like to be nurtured. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for those memories. I felt gratitude for the simplicity in reminding myself that I am more than what’s seen and I exist simultaneously as past-present-future me as I am always becoming. Refocusing on the journey extends kindness and awareness to myself.