I’m sorry I don’t have a picture for you today. I’m too lazy to take one, and I don’t want to scroll through my stock photo sites to find one, either. It’s a good thing you have such an amazing imagination, and can make up your own pictures as you read, isn’t it? I like being here, in my own little blog world, where it feels secure, since it’s wonderfully and wholly mine.
I was thinking today about scrubbing the shower. Well, no, it wasn’t the scrubbing-the-shower part I was thinking of, it was more that I’ve been doing things slowly and deliberately these days, instead of in an all-fire rush. And scrubbing the shower would be one of those tasks that, in the past, I would have tried to speed through because I hated it and wanted to get to something I loved instead. But when I think of doing anything in a hurry nowadays, I get this quick ball of anxiety in my stomach that doesn’t go away until I remember that I can do things sloooowly. Slow people used to irritate me to death. Slow people in line, slow people counting out their change, slow people blocking the sidewalk with their meandering… I wanted to knock them down and leap over their prone bodies, maybe getting a little kick in for good measure. I’m not so angry anymore. So anyway, it was kind of interesting to experience that release of anxiety when I remembered I didn’t have to scrub the shower in a furious burst of effort. I could take my time, humming as I went. I still haven’t done it, but that’s obviously part of my strategy, fool. (Just kidding. I love you.)
Friends mean so much to me. Of course, they do to us all, but I’ve felt really lucky and blessed to have people to accompany me on every path I walk, it seems. Right now, on my path exploring the female aspects of God, I’ve had amazing women come up alongside me, but also, to my delight, amazing men! It makes me see that eventually, and possibly soon, I’ll be perfectly satisfied with praying to Mother-Father God, without feeling any of the windswept emptiness that the word “father” had come to mean to me in regard to a deity. Healing is good. I’m all for it.
My determination to finish Martin has trickled to nearly null. My heart isn’t in it. My heart is in getting spiritual and emotional healing, almost as if I’ve been in the hospital and am recuperating at home now on the couch. I bought a long cozy sweater, which I wear constantly, and I’ve been sucking down copious amounts of tea. I’ve started exercising and limiting food portions, keeping in mind that I absolutely do NOT want to punish myself in either arena. I want to love myself, so I exercise moderately and eat what I want, just less of it, without going hungry. It’s kind of nice to look in the mirror and recognize my face more each day, a little “Well, THERE you are, Peter,” if you will. I try to play with my cat at least fifteen minutes daily. The books I’m reading are full of soft, implied direction, very spiritual in nature, and these include the palmistry and tarot books I recently found while thrifting. I don’t really believe in either of them, but they still intrigue the socks off me. I’m on a slow trail of Goddesses, but instead of making a comprehensive list of them and doing vast amounts of research, as is my wont, I’m looking them up as they come to me, which seems to be more like opening beautiful gifts one at time than studying for a test. SO much better. I’m even stopping myself from instantly googling subjects as I read about them, and am letting the idea of them seep into my psyche instead. Again, it’s about taking life and its elements slowly, not swallowing them up in one gigantic gulp. I can’t manage to transfer this new-found deliberation to my TV on DVD watching, but you know, maybe some things are better devoured. I don’t know everything (and I never will). Love! xo
Reading: The Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd; Your Inner Child of the Past by W. Hugh Missildine, M.D.; The Solace of Leaving Early by Haven Kimmel.
Watching: Big Love