Everything has seasons, and we have to be able to recognize when something's time has passed and be able to move into the next season.
Everything that is alive requires pruning as well, which is a great metaphor for endings.
_ Henry Cloud
the rain stops midday and I mange to
get out in the garden for a couple of hours
the hydrangea looks sad, so I snip her back
and give her a little pep talk
i make kale and white bean soup for dinner
and we eat it with the last of Jordan’s bread
***
I wake early, too early as now the whole of the day stretches before me. I lay there, the dog curled up beside me, and wonder if this chapter of my life is my real work. If I get through this, maybe I stand a chance.
***
“It may be that when we no longer know what to do,
we have come to our real work
and when we no longer know which way to go,
we have begun our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.”
― Wendell Berry
“What keeps you going isn't some fine destination but just the road you're on, and the fact that you know how to drive. You keep your eyes open, you see this damned-to-hell world you got born into, and you ask yourself, 'What life can I live that will let me breathe in & out and love somebody or something and not run off screaming into the woods?”
― Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
I work between the rain showers, taking my time, for there is no hurry. I cut back last year’s dead blooms and marvel at the tiny shoots making their way up through the soil. I feel myself relax back into myself. Understanding once again, how this garden keeps balanced, gives me hope, and keeps me sane.
***
He spent the night last night, keeping both grandpa and I on our toes. He was full of energy and tons of imagination. Sometimes it scares me a bit, my love for him so strong. After he went home I sat in the garden and watched the birds and a kind of ease fell over me, an ease that I have not felt for sometime. Love can do that I think.
***
“Living life as an artist is a practice.
You are either engaging in the practice or you’re not.
It makes no sense to say you’re not good at it. It’s like saying, “I’m not good at being a monk.
You are either living as a monk or you’re not.
We tend to think of the artist’s work as the output.
The real work of the artist
is a way of being in the world.”
― Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being
It has been almost a months since I posted here, a break I didn’t plan or really see coming. I have no explanation, other than to say that life was overwhelming, leaving me a bit paralyzed, and in need of a rest. During this down time I walked the garden in the early morning, always with my camera and my heavy coat. I craved the morning light both inside and out and turned my face upward toward the sun whenever I could. I tried to read, but found I couldn’t manage more than a few pages before I had to set the book down, so I listened to poetry on podcasts and stayed away from the news. I went to be early, and slept in. I spent some time considering ways I might remodel this space, turn it into something with more content, and some wise words, but that only added to the stress. So I stepped back, and let things simmer.
I started taking note of my moods and how they changed throughout each day and paid attention to the things that boiled up to the top. I did my best to allow those things to rise to the top and boil over, hoping they would clear up more space and time for me. Time for me to find my way of being in the world.
And, if are reading this, thanks for sticking around. It means a lot to me.
***