The Spring Thing
I started to write this morning and couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Things have changed since then. Well, not things so much as my head-space.
It’s spring. That’s always my favorite time of year. Remember last year? And it is now, but it’s not. And I just really don’t know how to deal with it.
I came home after work with not a care in the world, wondering how I would spend my time. That was my first head issue. When in the world-of-late have I not had a care in the world?
Options. Spare time.
My life, my house, my barn, my yard is uncluttered, my house is clean 24-7 in preparation of would-be buyers. My head, not so much.
I ended up sitting on the front porch enjoying 70 degree temps and the smells and sounds of spring. Soon my eyes wandered and I found a project: clean the front porch of its winter grime.
I power-washed everything, the power coming from my elbow, my arm, my head, my energy. Grime, dirt, dust, cobwebs, loose paint falling and exposing the need for new paint. Clean the cobwebs from my head, give myself a power washing, a new coat of paint. Concrete (hard and permanent), aluminum siding (low-maintenance, refreshable), windows (clear and transparent), furniture (comfort), knick-knacks and kitty-cats (joy). Turn it into a workout (no bike), be productive and at the same time distract myself from…what?
Myself. My reality. My present. My past. My future.
It’s so freaking complicated. I started a list. Pros and cons. Stay versus go. Spring makes me want to stay again, but I find myself considering a reverse suicide analogy: a temporary solution to a permanent problem. Winter will come again. Why is winter such a problem? And there is job dissatisfaction, which I’m trying hard to plan for down the road, because I think I am currently a little spoiled. Big issue. Long story. Head trip, seriously, for an artist, such as myself, which is something in serious need of validation and acknowledgement, once and for all. Or I die. Or not live. Same thing.
It’s more than a number of items in two columns on a list. It’s about the weight of the items on that list. And my scale is malfunctioning as badly as my compass.
It’s about authenticity.
I guess that’s why the whole house thing is taking so long. God is giving me time to find myself.
C’mon, God. I’m strong. I’m ready. I've been ready for so long. Throw me the ball. I am so ready to play.