What a beautiful day… Torie is sitting across from me at the kitchen table, painting various dancing figures on a canvas, and I’ve read all morning–a beautiful book called Traveling With Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and her grown daughter Ann. Twila recommended it and I’m so grateful she did; I’ve been ready for more insightful and soul-enriching books by women, and both of these women are addressing issues that I relate to. I’m definitely moving into a new phase of life: away from feeding people scattered fragments of myself, to welcoming, with warm loving arms, my whole being back into myself. The ensuing wholeness will actually provide me with a real person to give others, not just pieces.
This new phase has surprised me with several changes: I’m not interested in the four horror anthologies stacked on the shelf by the couch, for one. I’ve made a complete turnaround and want to read only en-lightened books. This isn’t a criticism of the horror genre, because I’ve felt very close to God at times while delving into it, as there is a distinct delineation between good and evil inherent to it. I think it’s more that my growing pains were remote before, so I could find comfort in oblique metaphors, whereas recently they’ve come to the forefront and I need direct assistance, pronto. I love how life swirls around. I love the giant cheesy taco supreme of life. I love how some people think that adding fake lemons to plastic greenery is a good idea.
My dreads are combed out and in a few minutes I’ll wash my hair so I can henna it. I always feel drab with my roots showing. I’m letting the idea for a job, and possible new occupation, simmer in me this week… Writing just isn’t working for me. I don’t know if it’s about timing, or that I need to find a new story because my old one, the one I’ve reworked and revisited for six years, is now tired and old, or what. All I know is that whenever I’ve sat down to work on it, apart from the initial read-through a couple weeks ago, I’ve felt bored. It’s that initial read-through that makes me wonder, though… I laughed a lot while reading my own stuff, and delighted at several sparkling turns of phrase, and actually held my breath in wonder at one of the suspenseful spots. So, I don’t know. I feel a little discouraged that I don’t know. But good grief, what am I, some kind of exception to humanity? No. Most people feel that way. The beefy burrito of life and all that.
Jess just called and asked if Torie and I want to come over later and help him with dinner. That request fills me with love for him. He’s staying with my parents, because our Spare Oom is taken up with Torie at the moment, until he can find a job and settle into his own place. Or decide on some other major life plan.
I’m struck this morning by how soft a place this is for me to have landed in… not just geographically, but emotionally, mentally, spiritually… all those great “ally”s. Right this minute, while I gaze out the kitchen window at the moss-covered lawn, and the huge twisting cedars knotted together in the tiny cove outside our patio door, to the blue sky barely visible between their fir-feathered branches, I feel that contentment far outweighs my heartaches and confusions, and everything is going to be perfectly a-okay. I’ll save my bout of crying for later this afternoon. Such is life. Love! xo