by Susan Lobb Porter | Life |
This is where I am tonight. Warm cuppa tea, feet up, dog by my side. Sometimes, I say sometimes, a girl just gots to reflect on what’s important. Like North Korea. Syria. Monsanto. Or, in my current state…what’s on HGTV tonight.
Sometimes a girl just gots to be chill.
Because I’m not going to save the world with anger, no matter how righteous. My signature on your petition doesn’t mean squat. I cannot rescue every dog, save every child or say anything that would change a politician’s vote.
But I can make the world a little better.
Really, I can….
By letting go… Just. Letting. Go… of that over which I have no control.
Poof… just like that.
Which frees me to paint.
And love.
And see things with an artist’s eyes.
Including that which is good.
Namaste, sweetums. Namaste.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Choices, Life |
Life has been all hustle bustle in Arty Life land lately. Been bordering on a sense of OVERWHELM with all that’s on my plate. Clearing out Mama’s cottage. Finding space for everything in the studio. Writing. Arting. Learning. Being.
AAAARUGH!
Until this morning. I woke up to filtered gray light and the sound of a steady rain. And then came the delicious realization that it was my day off. And with that came the proverbial fork in the road… I had a choice. OMG!!! I. HAD. A. CHOICE. I could get up and continue the pace that’s driving me into the ground or—
I could spend the morning jumping on the bed, if I wanted. Practice those handspring and cartwheels.
Or better yet, grab the iphone from the side table and start taking pictures.
Because the geometry that is my bedroom, has been my bedroom for nearly twenty years, was suddenly very interesting.
And the drizzly light coming through the curtains was soft and lovely
And there were puppies under the covers. Puppies who wanted me to roll over and grab a few more ZZZZZZZZs.
So. I. Did. Which was a big deal. HUGE. Because I tend to be a burning-the-candle-at-both-ends kinda girl.
Holy crap! I slept in!!!
And when I got up, this is what greeted me. Everything fresh and wet and smelling clean. Life-affirming, life-giving joyful spring rain.
Water everywhere. In the concrete bowl I wrote about here.
On the St. John’s Wort growing wild between the house and the barn.
In puddles along the way.
The ponies wanted room-service this morning. Wanted me to slog through the mud to them.
Not that they hadn’t been out and about before I got there. But why walk over to the fence when Mom will wait on you. Really. Why?
Back at the house there was one more thing I had to do.
Thank the rain for knocking the pollen off the trees. And tell the stuff that was already on the porch I would hose it off soon. But not today.
Because even tho there are things I should do, things I have to do—everything will get done in it’s own good time. Right now I hear a studio calling my name.
