Linger

I was telling a friend recently that the new year is a funny thing.  We act like we get to go forth with a clean slate on the first day of the year but everything feels the same:  life is all piled up all around, wobbling and wibbling in the wind.  Despite all this “starting over” new year stuff, life is replete with brimming inboxes, half-finished projects on my studio bench, the letters I need to respond to, the grocery lists, the shrinking wood pile, the unreturned phone calls…stacks and stacks of living to do, tasks to never catch up with — part of me wants to catch up with it all and take a moment to swing the cat by the tail but I know it’s impossible.  There is no amnesty!  The new year demands us onward!

Well, I’m in rebellion.  As usual.  Big surprise.

I guess I can feel the shadow of the fire season upon us and I just want to take my doggone time.  Some switch in me has been flipped.  I can’t do this dawn until dusk workworkwork business anymore.  There has to be space inbetween when I can let my hair down, put on my muck boots and a good wool layer and step out the door with the dogs to explore the river bank, unfold my lungs, crackle my back, listen to the rapids and the herons and the hawks.  I’ve got to be able to saddle up and ride out if the sky demands it of me.  Most importantly, I’ve got to be able to do these things without a guilt ladened heart, without apology.  I have this one life to live, I want it to move more slowly, be more moderate in pace.   Adagio…allegro…somewhere in between.

Today, down on the river, after breakfast but before second tea, we went strolling.  The sky was breaking in the West, clouds shoveling off North and South of the canyon, a slip of blue sky on the horizon.  Song birds were winging and singing, the river a blue rush of mountain water headed elsewhere.  I lingered there, blond as last years rabbit brush blooms and just as easy in the wind.

 

 

Comments

  1. I have to work one of those Mon-Fri jobs (Ho Hum) but come Friday night the electronics are ALL shut off. (Well – the phone stays on, but it remains face down in another room) I don’t know what I would do without these weekend “retreats”. It takes the first half of Saturday for the quiet to sink in. 2 days are never quite enough, but every little bit, right? Even with my small, uncomplicated life times of peace and stillness are so very important. Without them I wouldn’t have time to think, or breathe or know anything about what is going on internally. So much talk lately about de-cluttering everything but our time. Personally, I think it’s way more important than what’s piled in the hallway. So – advice (that you don’t need) from and old(er)person – TAKE the time. FORCE IT, STEAL IT. SNEAK IT AWAY. You really DON’T ever get it back. Bless you!

    • At times, my jobs have just as much repetitive monotony as a 9-5 — though my hours are usually perpetually extended! HA HA HA!

      You aren’t doing this, this is an aside: I think it’s a mistake for society to glorify the full-time working artist’s job — as if it’s work that is elevated in nature. It’s still work. And in this day and age it’s rare to meet an artist who is simply buried in their creative work, pouring all their energy into their craft and the pursuit of beauty and expression…because we’re all sharing our work via social media so we can be artists who aren’t starving! It’s like having four jobs at once. And maybe thats something that is good about the gallery system wherein artists create and drop their work off to be represented and sold by someone else so they can turn around, head back to the studio and dig into their work again. There’s something less disruptive about having a middle man.

      Anyway, I digress.

      I sure appreciate this comment of yours, Elizabeth. Our time off should be considered a sanctuary, a temple of rest and recovery. I think your approach to your weekends is spot on and I always need all the advice I can get so keep it coming!

      XX

  2. PS: Beautiful use of the ivories!

    • Thank you! I don’t feel like I did those ivories justice though, they are tremendous. When Robbie pulled them from his bull I nearly fainted…I’ve never seen such color before. I feel so lucky to have designed for them and to be wearing them. Just magical.

      • I only have one ivory left from “back in the day”. I had my ex-wedding ring melted down into kind of a puddle and had it set in with the diamond. It’s on a chain with a tiny little gold charm that has a cabin, pine trees and mountains. I wear it a lot – homesick for the mountains, I guess. It doesn’t have nearly the beautiful color as yours, but there’s just something about them, isn’t there? They carry a little but of the wild with them.

  3. You have such a great place to explore! I can smell that sage and LOVE the color of the lichen ~this time of year it’s extra bright! I treasure my time out wandering with the dogs! it’s often the best time of my day, week or even season. Something about that type of wandering with animals just makes you slow down and really look at everything. We all need more of “doing nothing”, because as they say, nothing is still something. cheers!

  4. This touches me deeply today, as I’m just starting feel the upswing after spending January and early February battling the calendar, then finally capitulating to reality. It took me getting knocked the *bleep* down before remembering that I need space, time, silence.
    I feel like I can nearly smell the sage and late winter awakening in your photos.