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.