last time it was that the dog ate my blogwork. today it’s that the cat has seen fit to take my stitching project hostage, so am off in search of more treats to see if we can’t work a deal. hopefully amicably (read: without resorting to claws).
Category: Blog (Page 101 of 101)
News of The 70273 Project with a side of Jeanne’s Barefoot Heart
i flounder. am in search of something, though i can’t articulate it enough to recognize it. maybe words aren’t the answer. i try to identify what interests me . . .
i grab books and look there. i go on walks with eyes open (and usually find the most interesting things when i’ve gone off and left my camera).
a very good friend, somebody i have never met but know at that deep, satisfying level of connection (thanks, acey) reminded me this morning that when we don’t listen to ourselves, that wise voice dries up. is mine drying up? is it giving me one last beckon?
i long to jump into something. need to settle down. want instant gratification. crave something that develops and unfolds over time.
i think i don’t move enough. don’t eat well. (soda crackers with mayonnaise washed down with swigs of diet coke – is that okay?) it’s too hot to walk. i can’t drag myself to the cool, air-conditioned fitness room complete with elliptical trainer and cable television.
can’t (read: don’t) stitch often enough to maintain a blog, so what do i do? i launch a new blog and within 2 weeks, i’m back to stitch and tell.
i am a mess. this is beyond being a complex human being – that’s endearing, this is embarrassing.
okay, enough. i’m going to watch more reruns of law and order. there’s something about solving a life-and-death case in slightly less than 40 minutes (allowing for commercials) that is quite satisfying.
and enviable.
it has been a tough week with many words exchanged. i’m feel i’m over my allotment, that it’s time to slow things down, drop out, take a breather, rest.
so i pick up needle and thread because, really, sometimes i just think better with cloth than with words. doesn’t mean i don’t initially imagine the cloth as voodoo doll and needle as stabbing device, mind you, but ultimately bringing together odd-shaped, different pieces of fabric helps me bring together stray thoughts and sometimes make sense of strange occurrences – one of the many things i know to be true, though i can’t explain the how or why. and so another project begins . . .
started my day out the old-fashioned way today, the way i once started every day out: i wrote 3 notes then walked to the mailbox to mail them. just brief little handwritten notes. emails would’ve been quicker and taken less time, but there’s just something about pen meeting paper.
one of the notes made me feel a bit on the uncertain side of things as it’s about the third note i’ve sent this friend. always telling her how i noticed something she did and how marvelous i think it is, whatever she did or said. but after a while i wonder if she’ll think me odd in the worst sort of way.
oh well.
when my chiclets were babies, i’d get up early to pen the 3 notes before they woke up, and during the winter when it was just too much trouble to bundle 2 babies up to go out in the cold, i’d sometimes lose contact with adult types and run out of people to write. when that happened, i’d go to the local newspaper and send a note to somebody i read about there. kinda’ felt like a stalker, but i went right ahead and sent it with the clearest of intentions and hoped it would bubble-up a smile on the recipient.
though i’d sometimes hear that the person on the other end of the mailbox enjoyed and appreciated the surprise note, it’s amazing how much it didn’t matter because it was so satisfying just penning and sending the note. in fact, i’d often forget who i’d sent notes to, and i often wondered if that was good or bad. did it mean that i was able to let go of any expected or desired outcome or did it mean i had early onset alzheimers.
i don’t know/can’t explain it, but starting my days this way makes me feel like i have control over my day.
probably a mere illusion, but it’s nice, nevertheless.
who am i kidding? declaring independence day from what? i have a fabulous life, but i have put everybody (read: family) on notice that i’m slowing down and sloughing off. i say i’m taking control of my life . . . but jeez – taking control of WHAT???? i just want to live the day noticing things, not running ragged and falling in bed at night wondering where did the time go and what time i have to get up the next day to get it all done. i’m tired of the checklist life. want to be able to say to hell with productivity. i mean, really: productivity for who? i want to sit and read without feeling guilty. i want to write my little stories without feeling the need to justify and explain and sell them for them to be worthwhile. i want to do yoga and go to walk without worrying about all the things i need to be doing instead of lolly-gagging around.
all this nagging and fussing comes from me and me alone – let me be real clear about that. but where on earth did i learn such a language? why, i think i need to march myself right in there and wash my mouth out with soap. where did i pick up and embrace the notion that one must be productive to be worthwhile? (don’t even waste your time suggesting that productive is different to everybody – i’ve tried that with my self and my self just isn’t buying it.)
we’re in n.c. right now where the rhododendrons are in various stages of bloom. and at the same time i’m completely mesmerized with the soft pink rhodo blooms, i’m struck silly by a colorful leaf floating down off the tree.
an orangeish/yellowish leaf.
in early july.
i’ve long noticed that women i know and love are like fall leaves: when their chlorophyll stops production is when they turn colorful and let go of the tree.
now i’m playing with thoughts of how maaaaaybe that’s only a part of it. maaaaaaaybe the women i know and love are green leaves, blooming rhododendrons, and colorful leaves all at once. maybe there’s something lingering, something bursting, something in full bloom, something waning, and something turned colorful in all of us. all at once. all in one single life. maybe even in a single calendar-blind day.
it makes no sense, but here i am. at the new place. in the new digital digs.
we moved (now i’ve switched to physical shelter) earlier this year – didn’t mean to, we just stumbled onto this little piece of heaven and, well, it captured our hearts and we moved . . . something i really hope i never do again. i mean, really: where did all that stuff come from??? and i’m no packrat, but good gracious there was a lot to move.
getting everything from one place to the other and unpacking wasn’t a bit of fun, but nesting. oh, how i do love nesting. and maybe that’s why i wanted a new digital home in spite of the fact that moving wreaks unbelievable havoc and eats up an unbelievable amount of clock.
see, i have this keen craving to slow my life down to a saunter instead of race; to live every day as though i’m on vacation; to explore things that interest me without bothering to even try to explain or justify or apologize that they might be a waste of time or non-productive or illogical . . . and that is precisely what i’ll be doing here: auditioning things that interest me just because they interest me and pursuing them until my attention is captured by something else. what i really want/intend to do is take the leash and muzzle off and let my barefoot heart romp, traipsing through briars and across soft mosses; skipping through open fields and finding my way through the dark of forests. maybe it’s hormones, maybe it’s the whatever-year itch, maybe it’s just time.
and so i shall. though i will continue to honor my responsibilities, today is, in oh so many ways, my independence day.
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integrity
This work by Jeanne Hewell-Chambers is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at http://www.TheBarefootHeart.com.
here ‘n there