Just a little love letter to my grandparents' house (fondly known as 135):
Taken from flip video I took last weekend on a whim, shaky camera work and all. It's part of my personal geography, that house. I love everything about it and the people therein.
Something in me, something knotted tight and anxious, unwound this weekend. Just like that. What felt like a twisted tight spring now feels free and easy like ribbons. I don't know what it was but it's gone. Good riddance, I say.
Was it being with my people? Was it spending leisurely, languishing, laughing hours with my mom, dad, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins?
Was it thinking about my particular path and sharing it publicly in a setting where all the different, diverse paths were honored + not dichotomized?
Was it listening to the symphony play Mahler's 5th Symphony (my cousin playing the bass in the orchestra)? Or sitting next to my 90-year-old grandfather while he tenderly wiped his eyes?
Was it reading East of Eden? I finished it last night on the plane and sat cradling it to my chest for many minutes, thinking over its mastery (oh, the envy) and Steinbeck's celebration of "that glittering instrument, the human soul."
Was it sitting across from friends, both newly made and long held, sharing stories and souls?
Was it hours of thinking time staring out the airplane window with the perspective you only get from 30,000 miles in the air (and no, no one asked to sit on my lap)?
Yes, yes, and yes. Whatever it was, I'm grateful.
And it was coming home, too, where part of my heart was waiting for me:
Update on Wednesday, March 3, 2010 at 10:43AM by
Anne
Sorry for the technical difficulties today! I know there was a weird login screen that popped up for a while there but it's fixed now. Or so I hope. It's not you, it's me and my technological ineptness. (Thanks again, Anna, for letting me know!)
p.s. I meant 30,000 feet not miles. I'm not an astronaut, in case you were wondering.
I was delighted to read today that Kelly Corrigan's new book, Lift, comes out next week. I had no idea--what a happy surprise. (I loved the Middle Place, didn't you?)
You can even go hear her in person: see book tour dates here. Hey locals: she'll be in Acton next Friday. Join me?
I've been in a bit of an annoying funk lately where my bear-like instincts are trying to dictate that I hibernate and growl a lot. Really. I can't seem to get enough sleep and I feel cumbersome and effortful, like I'm trudging through honey. Normally I could get behind the follow your instincts approach but, no, following them right now would not be advisable.
Instead it's time to pull out the Pollyanna/Music Man philosophy and decide to think happy. To prime the happiness pump (which, after all takes energy before the pay-off) by stretching and exercising, praying and writing.
To find glittery bits of joy + pick them up + put them in my pocket: doing the newspaper crossword and sudoku every day. G rubbing my feet while we sit on the sofa. Walking with Louie, who happily trots ahead and loves life even when at the end of a leash. Eating fresh pineapple. Hot water and great smelling shampoo. Crossing things off of my lists. Bear hugs. Inside jokes. "I love you."
To tell myself "this is going to be a really great week!" and be willing to believe it, even if it means faking it for a while. And it really is going to be a great week, with nice stretches of time today and tomorrow to get some things done. And I am heading to Utah on Thursday to speak on a panel at BYU for a symposium for students about education/career options and family/school/work balance. (I think I'm the representative for the going-back-to-grad-school-as-a-mom contingent.) Then I get to hang out with my parents for the weekend.
Any other members of the hibernating bear brigade out there? How do you pull out of a funk?
Saturday, March 6, 2010 at 8:00AM
Anne
