that's mrs. mediocrity to you

{august break no. 13}

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reflect.

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This post is part of Weekend Reflections

Oh, not me. I am always slightly off, tilting just to the left, but then again, I have always preferred asymmetry.

But when you spin for a long enough time, your center finds itself, grounds you, gives you balance. Unless of course, it doesn’t, in which case, you fall.

Yes, I am talking in circles.

I want to be centered, I feel like I should be centered, but this is not my year to be centered. Perhaps I am just not meant to be centered at all.

But that doesn’t mean I am not going to bloom just the same, in my crazy, off-center, off-kilter way.

Bud to blossom, flower to seed, husk to regrowth.

Uh huh.

which way shall we go?

It’s been a strange year. Almost since day one, something felt off to me, some rhythm has been missing, something has been off kilter, off balance, out of place.

Something I cannot quite put my finger on, in just the same way that you cannot put your finger on the reflection in a puddle without causing a ripple that erases everything you see.

And I don’t mean to say it has been all bad, it has been a good year in many respects, but I just can’t seem to gain my footing, I can’t seem to get back to normal.

I think that some years are like that. Filled with questions and quandaries and dilemmas and decisions and injuries and healing. Clearly, this is one of those years.

And it’s okay. Time has a way of working all these things out.

So I’m going to sit here for a while, quiet, very still, with my hands in my pockets, and just stare at this reflection.

And when I’m ready, which will be sooner than later, I’m going to touch a fingertip, every so gently, to the surface.

Because normal is just a notion and there is life

happening all around me.

I was taking pictures across a gully of an object to her right that I could not identify. I didn’t see her, although I must have been standing there for several minutes, trying to figure out what the strange object was. It was only when I gave up and started to walk away that I caught those ears out of the corner of my eye.

Ears almost bigger than her head, listening, alert. Knowing that I had no way to reach her, but aware, just the same. She never moved, never shifted a nostril or and eyelid, just stared at me, perhaps wondering if there was any danger from this woman with that black clunky thing held up to her eye. Or perhaps she was simply curious.

Almost, I missed her. With my eye trained through the lens of my camera, I failed to see what was right there in front of me. It’s not the first time this has happened, and sometimes it is a good thing, like when the heron flew through the spot my lens was focused on.

But it made me wonder what else I might have missed along those five miles, as I walked and then limped and for the last half mile or so, cursed a little. And yes, one of the reasons I went for this walk was to take pictures. But I forgot, in my mission, to be there. I forgot to just walk, to soak up the sun, to breathe in the smell of woods and wildlife, to pay attention.

Almost, I missed her.

Just another reminder on another day that life is always happening all around me, whether I pay attention or not, whether I choose to focus on what’s inside my head or what’s outside my body.

I wondered if it’s the same for her. Does she ever forget where she is, lost in memory or preoccupation with what’s for dinner?

I’d like to think not. I’d like to think that she saw me approach, sat very still as I took my photos, and smiled to herself at my complete lack of awareness. I’d like to think that she’s better at this than I am, this living. I’d like to think that she knows something I don’t.

Lesson learned? Perhaps. Except I know that I will forget again, one day soon, when I have more things on my mind than I can keep track of.

But in the end, I saw her. I didn’t miss her, not completely. The corner of my eye is still good for some things. I’m not completely unaware of my surroundings. But I do need to slow down a little, enough to catch my breath and enjoy the place I’m standing in.

That’s what she taught me from across that gully. We didn’t need words or gestures or sound. She made me understand, as I stood there, that life only moves as quickly as you let it. That stopping for a rest on a sunlit afternoon never hurt anything.

There was no danger, there.

Only wisdom.

The first dragonfly of the year appeared in my garden last week, and posed for me while I snapped several photos. This weekend, at our jewelry show, a dragonfly flew into our tent and then couldn’t find its way back out until I had unzipped several sections and offered a bit of guidance. And then it was free.

I’m exhausted this morning. Hanging on like this dragonfly, still and ready to fly if necessary, but grateful for the brief rest. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the scent of roses and peonies drifts in through my studio window.

I’m trying hard not to be in a bad mood. The not being able to run is making me grumpy in more ways than I had anticipated. Or maybe it is just life making me grumpy. Or hormones. Or all the questions that keep buzzing around in my head. Questions that always flit away before I’ve read their answers.

I keep living the questions, buzzing around on them, with them, over them, under them. It makes me dizzy. When I stop for a moment, cling to something strong and steady, I see that the answers are never really hidden, they just move faster than I do. I only have to pause for a second to see several of them zooming by.

Just now, I’m going to let them go, without even trying to read them as they fly past. I’m going to enjoy this sunlight and soak up something that feels like wisdom, although it could just as easily be trepidation. I’m thinking it’s a good thing, in this life, to be stubborn. To hold on. To refuse to give up.

Learning to fly comes naturally for birds and dragonflies. Less so for humans. But I keep flapping away, all the while losing my balance, regaining my footing, fluttering and floating on breezes and happenstance.

Today, I’m going to walk. I’m going to sink into the gravity that anchors me and feel its pull. I’m going to enjoy the warmth of the earth beneath my feet.

And already, I feel light as a feather.

Funny how that works.

Isn’t it?

while trying to take a picture of another bird,

right there in that tree to the right.

i call that

serendipity.

May 26. A day like any other.

Another weekday filled with work and longing to be elsewhere, outside in my garden, running, being held up by a breeze.

Except. I stole the afternoon. I couldn’t help it. And I’m not doing anything, not pulling one million dandelions or planting or watering or designing or cleaning or fixing or producing.

I am sitting in my garden listening to birdsong and breezes, basking in an already too-warm sun, trying not to feel guilty while doing it.

Okay, fine, I’m not having all that much trouble with the guilt.

The bluebirds haven’t been here at all today, I think the cats may have finally frightened them away. This makes me sad and relieved all at once.

But the mockingbird has a nest in the row of pines along the edge of the property, and while I can’t see him, I can hear him, show-off that he is, marking time in the voices of others.

These are the kind of moments I live for. I can’t decide if that’s sad or not. Although I think I’m deciding that it’s not. Oh, I’m sure there are people that have lives much more exciting than mine, but I am content sitting here in my garden, bare feet up on a chair, sun on my face, surrounded by the jungle of my existence.

I never thought I’d be this woman, sitting in her backyard, not needing anything else.

Yet here I am. Soaking up so much more than the sun that glints off the oh-so-white skin of my shins.

And what’s really blinding

is my smile.

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to breathe in the

glorious scent of life,

hold it in, there

just next to

your heart.

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friday the 13th has always been a lucky day for me, so i am ready
to embrace this one. partly because it’s my lucky day, partly just because it’s friday.

friday has always been my favorite day. isn’t it funny how we can have a favorite day of the week, when really, they are all the same?

24 hours, 60 minutes an hour, 60 seconds a minute, you get the idea.

but i love friday because i almost never work on a friday night. it’s my time to relax, even if i have to work on saturday. and sunday. which is often the case.

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something about this photo makes me think of these lines from a dylan song (visions of johanna):

she’s delicate and seems like the mirror

later followed by

the ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face

i’m not sure why, it may be because i am exhausted and somewhat delirious.

or maybe because it’s friday the 13th

i’ve never seen any of those movies, have you?

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is it just me, or does life seem really crazy these days, crazier than normal?

i can’t keep up. i need a vacation. or a long weekend with a stack of books and no agenda.

yeah, right. like that’s going to happen.

but that reminds me, i finished the hemingway project. so if you have any ideas for great fiction to read, i am looking for suggestions.

i miss hemingway already. really, i do.

is that weird?