Blur and beauty

Posted on | September 8, 2010 | 4 Comments

Hi. I have resolved to come here and snatch snippets and pin them down even if I feel like they don’t matter or don’t make sense. Will you still come to visit? I hope so.

So Wednesdays are the longest days for me around here now. Two studio classes with so much awesome my brain basically explodes by the time I’m through at 5pm. Then the long drive home where I can feel my body practically humming still with the energy of thought. Like a whirring halo of ideas that glisten over the surface of my skin. It really feels like that.

I’m grateful for the drive; for the almost forty minutes (with evening traffic) to pull myself out of my mind. To reconnect with my muscles, breath. It’s a good transition time so that when I get home I can melt to floor level where Sprout comes to find me, folding into my chest. He strokes my bare arms with his little sticky hands. “Hi mama. Hi.”

This is the hardest part and also the riddle: not being around him all day, even though when I am around him all day I long for exactly what I have now–heady intellectual conversation and artistic challenge.

Why must this be so?

Tonight T was out late, so it was just me and my two boys after their grandparents left. We said grace, ate polenta with cheese and sauce, giggled a lot. And then already it was about teeth brushing and diaper changing and bedtime and now more than ever I want to sneak in and kiss their faces. Am I missing everything by not being here every day to police the endless tussles over toys; to clean up the endless messes; to catch their endless smiles? No. That can’t be. Their lives are rich with grandparents and Bean is in Kindergarten (!) and oh, how I love this crazy intense busy mind expanding stuff of being in school. Little by little I’ll be posting a few more tidbits over here if you are ever interested in following along. I’m also on twitter pretty regularly, sharing all the inspiration I’m finding daily. Like this (so fun!)

It’s starting to feel like fall here. The garden has reached that prolific wild state of neglect and bounty. There are potatoes with a thousand sleeping eyes waiting to be dug; crickets still in the evening; the first yellow and red leaves. Something I’m going to try very hard to do on the days when I don’t have class is to get outdoors for small snippets of time. There is nothing more restorative than walking under the open sky, or lying in a field of tall grass, or feeling the wind hard on my face at the top of a parking garage with a glorious view.

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