I am not speaking interior design. Or perhaps I am. I am trying to rearrange things a little, beginning from within. Hopefully this will manifest on the outside in due course. I love those words: in due course. They are business words that allow you to slither out of any real commitment to something actually happening. It may happen that things change if I keep practising The Process. I am practising. At the moment I cannot tell, nor do I want to say anything that isn’t neutral in case I am misleading, either way, to anyone who may be looking in, hopeful. There is reason to hope. There is reason to be cautious. These two are not in opposition.
I am thinking about last year and how things went quite off course after I got Shingles less than half way through. I think it took me the rest of the year to recover, and still I feel a vague tingling every so often, down one side of my head, a shadowy reminder. Without this, I may well have been back teaching classes again, according to my original plan. Much as I liked the work, this would not have been the right thing to do so maybe I have Shingles to thank for that. But I do not thank it for interfering with my writing projects and I need a period of re-dedication and, simply, a bit of basic structure in place. I sometimes think that it will take me the whole of my life to organise my life so as to live it properly.
I see that Ms Melancholy is back after apparently spending three months tidying her room. I can quite understand how this can happen and can only congratulate someone who is able to stand back after however long a period and say, yes: now it’s done and I can get on with other things. Tidiness and I have never been close friends. Oh, I have courted her but she will not take up residence with me. If she had, I would be like my sister who, when asked how she kept things so neat, looked surprised and said that she just found a place for everything and then kept it there. It is true that there is a beauty in order, but without it one can also find other ways. Keeping things simple is one and cutting down on possessions is another. I do not have many things and intend to keep it that way. The old house, my small cottage, is happy with this as it allows her to reveal herself most substantially. It is perhaps good we did not sell her last year, as planned (though St. Joseph is still buried upside down at the front of the house and I really should attend to this). The time was not auspicious and it feels right to be here rather than elsewhere, for now.
I have had my second pretend latte of the day – sometimes I like this more than the real thing. For breakfast I have had a packet of Twiglets. There are things to be seen to. As son is at university, I am sitting in his room (which has the best view) at my laptop because the computer in the study (which has the second best view) has “sticky” keys. Someone, not me, must sort this out and meanwhile laptop will do, even though most of my stuff is on the computer. A clear day ahead: write; read; rest; friend coming later for tea; braised lamb shanks for supper.
Oh happy day.
6 comments:
Oh Signs, I wanted to dash over and tell you tonight that I so smell the vanilla in the air.
And I see from your new post that you can still smell it too.
I feel personal power building that is starting to burst out with decision. The landscape is changing. And it will be good.
How exciting eh?
Oh happy day.
:-)
Thank goodness, Kahless, I thought I might be losing my touch. But if you say so too - yes, definitely vanilla, with a touch of rose (scented candle).
OK, I read these comments and then totally forgot what I was going to say. Now I'm wondering if kahless is going to sniff the vanilla or what. lol
Hi RR, er - I forgot too.
I think illness comes to teach us lessons and we weaken every time we start to forget the lessons we're supposed to have learned.
I read a lovely parable a few weeks ago about a man who walks down the road and falls into a hole. He cries for help, is rescued and wonders why he has fallen in the hole. The next day he walks down the same road and tells himself to remember the hole. But he doesn't and again he falls in. He wails and laments and is rescued.
The next day he walks down the same road and says to himself, ah, I see the hole, I'll not fall into it this time. But in he falls.
The next day, he remembers the hole but slips and falls into it again.
The day after he is very careful, he knows the hole is there and carefully walks around it.
The following day it suddenly dawns on him, why take such a risk with the hole - and he takes a completely different road.
By the way, did someone mention the smell of vanilla in the air...
;-)
Ah yes, Vanilla - see 1st January for the original aromatic vanilla post.
I like the story of the man and the hole in the road. But:
I feel it isn't so much a question of illness coming to teach us lessons - more that there are things that we learn as a consequence of having to live differently. But of course, there is a great difference between a short illness and a long one.
And what I also feel about illness and such is that - you know - shit happens. And to accept this fact is part of what it is to be a grown up.
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