Sprawling on a Pin

I sit down to write

And start thinking, but why?
Which for me is unusual. I don't have too much problem writing in the Bean's blog or in her memory book. Every day is something I want to hold close, to remember. It isn't all newsworthy, but there is some small thing she does that is a tiny jewel, each day.
Something that made us laugh so hard (like the other night, coming home when she suddenly said "jesus daddy, jesus mommy, jesus jesus jesus jesus bean--that's the one word I can't keep from coming out of my mouth) or tear up (I was singing the "pumpkin king" song to her on the way to school and she piped up with "I love you mommy" and a big smile) or makes you proud (she went up during her morning tv time and said "turn it off, read this book" and handed me If you give a mouse a cookie)

But about my own life? Perhaps I'm feeling some peace and calm and things are going so well that I don't have a need to write. I find I write more when I'm bothered. And I'm bothered so much less now. I'm walking for 30 minutes to an hour every early morning and it's peaceful and feels very good. I can think quietly on things, work on walking meditation and I came back today with a new poem in my head, which I'm working on. I'm excited about my hammer dulcimer lessons and learning more about celtic folk music, something I've loved for years. The house comes along a bit at a time. The friendships in our town come along a bit at a time. I go to bed most nights at a reasonable time and get up at 5:30. I am volunteering at the Bean's school and that is a deep good feeling. I take time each day to read as much as I can and turn off the television more and more (James watches even less than I do and I've never been too much of a tv person). I just finished The Awakening (Kate Chopin) on Sunday and Monday I finished a book of Fantasy and Horror Short Stories. Reading The Awakening at this point in my life, when I am so happy to be a mother and to care for my family and work for my community is a very different experience than it was in my 20s, when I wasn't sure about being a wife and mother. Reading Fantasy and Horror is just fun.

James and I had a date today (he's had the last two days off) at the bookstore and had two hours to talk, look for books, talk about books. It was wonderful. I told him how it feels like there is a dial in my head and every so often recently there is an audible click and one more thing that used to torment me is put away, turned off, gone. Some are large: I understand suddenly that my past doesn't have to define my present though it will always have some bearing on it. Some are small: why try and go back to sleep every morning, when I know it won't happen, why not make good use of the time instead of being bothered by waking up so early? And many in between. I find myself hurting not so much over things which once would have devastated me. I find myself actively caring about things that I used to care about theoretically--putting my time where my beliefs are, so to speak. I have realized that I have more time behind me than I have ahead of me and that it is really time to stop fucking around, putting up with things I'd rather not, doing things I hate, eating crap, drinking crap, smoking crap, wasting time on the internet.. There just isn't enough time and now there is no way to fool myself any longer.

It's a very odd place to inhabit, but not unpleasant. Actually it's quite good, which surprises me.