Saturday, February 24, 2018
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.