The wind is fierce, the air is damp. The city lays under thick cloudcover.
I love coming home on days like today. Walking into my warm home, greeted at the door by my cat. Knowing that I don't have to leave again until tomorrow. Changing into comfy clothes and deciding to make something simple for supper. Thinking that maybe I'll eat my chocolate cake and ice cream first, and start that new book that's been sitting by my bed.
I couldn't be happier.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Little Hands
We talk lately about how big they're getting, how old they seem. My nephew can read so well and my niece is an amazing little artist.
But when I grasped their hands to say say grace at supper the other night, I was struck by how small they were. These little hands, so soft and full of the essence of childhood.
Little hands clenching a pencil to draw a picture - a picture that can be anything you want it to be, because when you're 5 there are no rules yet. You are only limited by your imagination, and if you want to sign your name backwards, now is the time.
Little hands that follow along the page as you learn to read and your vocabulary grows by leaps and bounds.
Little hands that fidget when you're nervous and gesture animatedly when you tell stories.
When it seems like they're growing so fast and getting bigger every time I see them, I have only to take their little hands in mine to put things back into perspective.
But when I grasped their hands to say say grace at supper the other night, I was struck by how small they were. These little hands, so soft and full of the essence of childhood.
Little hands clenching a pencil to draw a picture - a picture that can be anything you want it to be, because when you're 5 there are no rules yet. You are only limited by your imagination, and if you want to sign your name backwards, now is the time.
Little hands that follow along the page as you learn to read and your vocabulary grows by leaps and bounds.
Little hands that fidget when you're nervous and gesture animatedly when you tell stories.
When it seems like they're growing so fast and getting bigger every time I see them, I have only to take their little hands in mine to put things back into perspective.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Getting Old
There's a scene in the movie The Guardian (that I recently watched) that I just love, that speaks about getting older. The (older female) bartender is talking to the (older male) coastguard instructor and has this to say:
"Hell, I've always been old, Ben. You know what though? I don't mind.
I mean, if my muscles ache it's cause I've used 'em. It's hard for me to walk up them steps now cause I walked up 'em every night to lay next to a man who loved me.
I got a few wrinkles here and there, but I've laid under a thousand skies
on sunny days.
I look and feel this way, well, cause I drank and I smoked, I lived and I loved, danced, sang, sweat and screwed my way through a pretty damn good life.
Gettin old ain't bad man; getting old - that's earned."
I love the sentiment behind those words. These days nobody wants to get old, or to look like they're getting older. They want to be young eternally, instead of celebrating a life well lived. Maybe I think this way because I'm still (relatively) young, but I hope I can always embrace whatever season of life I'm in, and be proud of what's come before and hopeful for what lays ahead.
"Hell, I've always been old, Ben. You know what though? I don't mind.
I mean, if my muscles ache it's cause I've used 'em. It's hard for me to walk up them steps now cause I walked up 'em every night to lay next to a man who loved me.
I got a few wrinkles here and there, but I've laid under a thousand skies
on sunny days.
I look and feel this way, well, cause I drank and I smoked, I lived and I loved, danced, sang, sweat and screwed my way through a pretty damn good life.
Gettin old ain't bad man; getting old - that's earned."
I love the sentiment behind those words. These days nobody wants to get old, or to look like they're getting older. They want to be young eternally, instead of celebrating a life well lived. Maybe I think this way because I'm still (relatively) young, but I hope I can always embrace whatever season of life I'm in, and be proud of what's come before and hopeful for what lays ahead.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
walking
I had a "refocusing" moment the other day when I was walking. It was a 4 km day, (in my half marathon training) and I was kind of dragging my butt. I really didn't feel like walking; my hip was very sore, my hands were freezing, and my glasses kept fogging up. I was looking forward to being done this stupid half marathon and not having to walk on assigned days anymore. I was over halfway done when I turned the corner to head west.
And came face to face with a beautiful pink sunset. It was quite cloudy, which served to give texture and weight to the light. It was so wonderful I had to stop and watch for awhile.
I absolutely love the sky, and upon seeing this brushstroke of beauty at the end of the day, I realized how long it's been since I've sat and gazed at the sky.
All of a sudden I remembered why I like walking - because it's a different way of seeing the world. Walking is about exploration and taking your time.
It's about strolling, meandering, wandering, rambling, and in general not being in a rush.
It's about having time to think, or as is more common with myself, having not to think. [Aside: I found myself many times this winter listening to the sounds of my boots crunching on snow, and my darth vader-like breathing (trying to suck air through both my buff and balaclava). Try as I might to make "good use" of this time, I nearly always ended up with a mind clear of everything. Which, now that I'm thinking about it, was maybe the best use of that time. Every other minute of my day seems crammed with so many sporadic, disjointed thoughts, perhaps a calm, focused mind is what I need the most.]
With the sunset came the renewal of my desire to walk; a renewal of my desire to wander, and to see things I might otherwise miss.
Thank you, God, for that ethereal art in the sky.
And came face to face with a beautiful pink sunset. It was quite cloudy, which served to give texture and weight to the light. It was so wonderful I had to stop and watch for awhile.
I absolutely love the sky, and upon seeing this brushstroke of beauty at the end of the day, I realized how long it's been since I've sat and gazed at the sky.
All of a sudden I remembered why I like walking - because it's a different way of seeing the world. Walking is about exploration and taking your time.
It's about strolling, meandering, wandering, rambling, and in general not being in a rush.
It's about having time to think, or as is more common with myself, having not to think. [Aside: I found myself many times this winter listening to the sounds of my boots crunching on snow, and my darth vader-like breathing (trying to suck air through both my buff and balaclava). Try as I might to make "good use" of this time, I nearly always ended up with a mind clear of everything. Which, now that I'm thinking about it, was maybe the best use of that time. Every other minute of my day seems crammed with so many sporadic, disjointed thoughts, perhaps a calm, focused mind is what I need the most.]
With the sunset came the renewal of my desire to walk; a renewal of my desire to wander, and to see things I might otherwise miss.
Thank you, God, for that ethereal art in the sky.
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