Kat came down for a visit last Friday. Not only did she help me spontaneously rearrange the furniture in my living room so that presto-change-o! the sweetest little art space you ever did see was suddenly at the front and the most cozy sitting area was created where before there was nothing but my chair and, you know, you can sit wherever.
She also brought Riley cat to help christen* the guest room.
For the record, Henry adores cats. Adores. All Riley had to do was sit in the doorway and Henry was entranced.
I know it is a total illusion to think we can ever dial our daily life into a rhythm and pattern that makes our heart sing, but damn if I am not gonna keep walking that yellow brick road til my shoes fall off.
And by shoes, I mean boots as I have two pair sitting in a brown paper grocery bag in the backseat of my car — the idea is that one of these days I will actually remember to stop at the cobblers to see if he can repair the back seam (one pair has already been resoled) as I love them and can’t get them replaced (trust me I’ve tried).
I think it’s time I simply let them go and move on.
Hard for a yankee girl. Hell, I bought a new pair of Sorel scuffs the other day and when they arrived it actually took 24 hours for me to throw the old pair away because they still had good wear left in them . . . I kid you not. Three year old slippers that should be tossed posthaste and I’m hesitating as I think of ways I could continue to use them “they’d be good for when I want to go out and take the trash to the curb . . .”
I know. It even yeeks me out. But on the flip side, I get totally ill at the over consumption I witness as such a normal part of our culture. So, finding the balance. Always the balance. You know what? just writing this all out– those damn boots are getting tossed into the bin as soon as I finish this post. Done and dusted.
Hey! Thanks for hanging around while I worked that out.
Working stuff out seems to be my focus right now. I’ve slowed my pace down to such a point that each time I hit a snag, a problem, an upset — the process of untangling, resolving, or creating a solution comes about in the strangest way. Strange for me, anyway. Instead of spiraling out at a million miles an hour I just sit with it. Half the time I don’t even try to fix it, I simply give it some air, some time and then — whaddya know. At some random moment when I am totally not even thinking about it like snapping open the refrigerator door or winding a cap back onto the tube of toothpaste and ping! — the solution drops into view.
Is this what being old is all about? Cause I am seriously loving on the emotional freedom it’s rolling out for me here.
Some kind of magic carpet ride for octogenarians.
Over the years I have been so lucky that people send me mix cds because I am so utterly lame about music and if I didn’t have these infusions god knows what I would listen to — Benedictine lutes, probably. Anyway, the song was on one of these random cds and so I had no idea who it was but I tracked it down:
Natalie Walker, Quicksand
It got into my blood stream and made me dig out the paints. More reason why I was so grateful to Kat for shifting the energies so I could actually paint instead of walking holes into my boots with that song running through my head on endless repeat.
*um, perhaps not the best word choice as Riley had a proper litter box and was a most perfect guest