I picked up a book recently called The Renaissance Soul--Life Design for People with Too Many Passions to Pick Just One. I think I've met my spirit animal in this book. Many would be quick to say, "Aw, Madd, you're just ADHD." Au contraire. I am a Renaissance Soul. In my quest to do all, see all, read all, taste all, however, this blog has gotten lost in the shuffle. I am reining it back in.
What inspired me? I'm dejunking, sorting, sifting, throwing etc. Specifically photos and mementos. I found something I'd written in one of my classes last December in China:
I think I have an identifiable problem. Simply put, my problem involves my dread of many events. Instead of living in and enjoying the moment, I find myself with a pit in my stomach and then hoping that something will soon be over--a subway ride, a particular Chinese class, a week at school, a dinner engagement. These are not horrendous tasks or unpleasantries--just something I imagine that I want to have behind me. The biggest and most understandable currently is wanting my body to be healed. I want time to pass so that I can look BACK on falling off my bike--look BACK on limping around, look BACK on being physically conscious of pain in each and every step.
I am not sure of the origin of my dread complex. I have always defined myself as someone who is optimistic--I try to find joy in each moment and most assuredly joy in the journey. Nevertheless, I DO enjoy crossing dates off on the calendar, and I am never happier that when I can put on my pajamas and climb into bed. Anticipating the end of each day gives me pleasure. Thinking about the end of a week, month or year gives me satisfaction.
Perhaps my concept of the passage of time needs to be re-examined. I probably need a good jolt of reality to bring me up short and force me to see the intrinsic value of each passing moment. I am aging. I see my siblings ahead of me greying and taking slow more methodical steps. We are healthy, but we are growing older. I need to wrap my head around that.
My suspicion is that subconsciously I am taking a good firm stock of my mortality. My grasp of time is shifting. What used to spread out in a vast carpet before me now appears more finite--I can see the edges. I can see that the grass ends. It has edges, and I am approaching them.
Not super writing, but it struck me when I read it. There is so much power in seeing your thoughts in print. And so I take up the cross again. Not going to waste my time on apologies. Let's crank it up...rrrrrRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRR...
A little blast from the past lurking in a box with some dead bugs and immunization records:
From the Provo Daily Herald, summer 1977. I worked for a friend of ours who started Rent-a-Kid. Basically I accompanied kids as they raked lawns, washed windows etc. all over Provo. I am impressed here that I can sit cross-legged. I'd like to be able to do that again. This summer we were poor, expecting an October baby, and still quite idealistic. My other part time job was as a Fuller Brush "man". That's another story for another day.
Wednesday, September 27, 2017
Sometimes you have to go clear around the world to find your people! But when you do, glomp onto them and don't let go.
Our Labor Day weekend guests just REALLY wanted to bike! And bike again! And again!
The Little Museum Down the Road. All good hostesses break and enter, right?
A spontaneous stopover at the Ream Mansion in Dingle. No extra charge for the earthquake!
Joan shares the mantle heist story. I go back to middle school with this woman. I was in the first class of students she ever taught.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, evidence of the rocking and rolling!
Linda (classmate of mine) on left--sister of elder who baptized Sheri on right!