I believe my begonia has finally said enough is enough and is ready to hang it up for the cold months… or actually, forever, seeing as it’s an annual. I’ll try one more thing and move it to a less exposed part of the patio, but it’s pretty wilty and bedraggled, poor snapper. Everything needs a rest eventually, doesn’t it? To every thing, turnturnturn, there is a season, turnturnturn, and scene…That’s okay. That way life stays bouncy and fresh, and besides, it’ll come back in another form, another day. Life goes on.
I was thinking about being fresh this morning (don’t get excited now because I don’t mean that kind of fresh). I mean, the kind of freshness that implies recreating myself every day, in every moment. Not making decisions based on past experiences or results (including those that other people have had), but only on the impulse of my soul at the moment it feels it. My soul is never wrong because it’s connected directly to God. I get confused only when I start mulling stuff over in my mind, where the past and future make their home and muddy up the upholstery by putting their mucky little feet all over it.
Speaking non-metaphorically for a moment, my living room is in disarray because I’ve been painting the papier-mache bookcase I made years ago. I had originally painted it in Mary Engelbreit fashion – red, with pink inside walls, orange shelves, and a bright green top piece – all that were missing were the black polka dots – but it has always clashed with the moss-green drapery and jarred my eye and I’ve had enough of it. It’s now painted flat black and on top of that I’ll follow Scott’s suggestion and experiment by using a walnut stain/varnish. There will be a patch test happening on its backside before I get all crazy with the rest of it. I hope it works because the idea is kiiind of brilliant. I’ll be doing that today.
The rest of the day will be a grab bag of delights. One of those goodies will be printing some photos I’ve copied and pasted from various sources to place on the mantle, which now that I write it makes me sound kind of stalkerish, but I guess I am that way, considering that I also cadged a photo of Eckhart Tolle off the internet to put on my sacred bookshelves…
…(I love his sweet face. He looks like somebody’s favorite uncle.). I decided awhile back to find some really awesome photos of my beloveds, both family and friends, to put in nice frames for the living room. I’m feeling connected on a deeper level than ever with people and my mantle will reflect that. I’m excited for this project. Other than that, I don’t have any big plans for the day. I have become a busyness lightweight and I thank God for that every moment. ~~~~~
Waal, it’s now the next morning… another truly beautiful one. The bookshelf turned out just as I’d hoped. It reminds me of the clock in the “Masque of the Red Death,” of Tim Burton movies, of my Grandma Phyllis’s house, as she loved black and even painted the living room walls that color. Which sounds hideous but actually kind of worked. Anyway, the shelf is marvelous and almost dry enough to put the movies back into. I wish I had a camera so I could show you, but someday.
Every morning I usually end up with an insight to fuel me for the day and this morning as I read a little in Tolle’s book A New Earth – well, this sentence in particular: “On the new earth, old age will be universally recognized and highly valued as a time for the flowering of consciousness” – it suddenly occurred to me that soon (if not already), the largest demographic in the United States will be Baby Boomers, or to put it another way, old people. I barely squeak into that category as my birth year is the very last one included, and it makes me really happy to know I’m part of that crowd. Because if what Tolle said is true, and it’s shaping up to be, then I will be one of those ushering in that new consciousness. I already am anyway, despite what he said!
So I’ve been sitting here delighting in the privilege I have of being the age I am at this time in the earth’s evolution, as more and more of us begin to move from reliance on outer forms to awareness of our inner purpose. Middle-to-old age is generally the time when we realize that our ambitions, identities, and dependence on material objects, including people, have not brought us the happiness we thought they would. At that point we can either descend into complaining and bitterness, wallowing in regrets and memories of past accomplishments and wounds, cemented mentally in our “life stories” – or we can embrace the present moment, our changing bodies, the silence, the stillness, the space around us and all other forms, the source of life from which creativity eternally springs, no matter one’s age. We can become radiant. What a joy it is to be here, right now. I wish you great joy, too! Love you all. xo