the blue muse

It is almost February, at last. I have to say that I am glad to see it come, the month of hearts and flowers, after this month that has hovered, continually, in shades of grey. I have never had a problem with January before, but this year, I shall be glad to say goodbye to it.

It’s funny the way we think of time, as if a new month really makes a difference, just because it is called a different name. The way Friday is a better day than Tuesday, the way seven o’clock seems more optimistic than eleven.

What if we didn’t mark the passing of time? What if a year or a month or a day never came to end, what if it all just flowed continuously? I wonder how this would change our thinking, if it would change what we accomplish in a day or a month or a year. How would we chart our to-do lists, our calendars, our plans?

How would we keep track of the time that has passed, the years our children were born, the day we were married, the first time our heart was broken? We know that tomorrow never comes. But what if it were all just one long today? What if we didn’t mark it out in 24-hour spans, sunrises and sunsets, sleeps and awakenings? What if it all just went on and on before us? It’s hard to imagine how this would change the way we live.

I always feel like I am running out of time, there is never enough of it in which to do all the things I need or want to do. But what if I simply removed the deadline? What would happen then? Would I relax more, do less, accomplish nothing? I am definitely the kind of person who is driven by deadlines. I am not a do-it-ahead-of-time kind of girl. Often, I wish I was like that, and it is not that I don’t see the value in doing things ahead of time, it is usually more that there are three or five or ten other things that need doing before the ones coming up in the future.

Then I start to think of the time I waste, which of course, then makes me wonder if that is even a valid phrase. Is there such a thing as wasted time? Isn’t doing nothing, or the illusion of doing nothing, still time spent doing something? Even if it’s nothing?

Okay, now I am starting to confuse myself.

A flower doesn’t know what day it is, what hour, what week. A flower doesn’t try to spend its time like currency, opening its blooms as quickly as possible so it will have more time to relax, or set seed. A flower drinks up the rain and turns its face towards the sun.

A flower never wastes one bit of energy worrying about whether or not the sun will rise, or whether someone will pluck it from the garden, or trample it to the ground.

A flower just keeps on growing.

This is where it all began for me, just a little over a year ago. I discovered, quite by accident, a magazine called Artful Blogging. And I was hooked.

After reading several issues, a little seed started to grow in my mind… I can do this. I should do this. I want to do this.

And so I did. I started this blog last February 16th, so my blog birthday is coming up. And yesterday I got the best present in the mail. An advance copy of the next issue of Artful Blogging. An advance copy because my blog is in it! It was like Christmas and my birthday and a whole lot of other celebrations all wrapped up in one. There has been a lot of happy dancing going on. And smiling. And thanking.

It has been a crazy wonderful year, and mostly, I want to say thank you to YOU. I had no idea what I was doing when I started all this, no idea at all. But because of you, the wonderful people who read and encourage and support and comment, one of my dreams has come true.

There will be some giveaways coming up in the next few weeks to celebrate being published for the very first time, my blog’s birthday, and you.

Because I am so, so grateful.

Thank you. Yes, you.

Love you.

Pattern and texture, white space and curves, the shadows and reflections that give form to everything we see.

They dance around us, these shadows, almost real but not quite tangible, we see ourselves in their posture, we find things that aren’t really there, we spar with them, tease with them, create with them.

Sometimes they precede us, stepping through life just a split-second before we get there, and sometimes they trail behind, extending our height and lingering in the places we have just been.

It’s hard to think of a shadow as something real, you can’t hold onto it, you can see right through it, but you can’t erase it. Light and shadow are intertwined, you can’t have one without the other. Sometimes you stand in the light, other times you must plod through the darkness.

They come in all shapes and sizes, and complete the spectrum of black to white with contrast and softness, hard-edges and blurs, angles and curves. So much life to be found, there, amongst the shadows.

Today I think I’m going to tango with mine. Or lift my arms and pirouette, glide a little way across the floor. I think I’ll seek out the shadows of this day, and see what I find there, waiting.

A new perspective, perhaps, or maybe the shape

of things to come.

join us for prompt me wednesday at jillsy girl’s place

In a vase full of flowers, I am able to find the light of spring, the gift of growth, the promise of color.

Lately, grey has been more than a color, it has been a mood. And while I am fond of the color, the mood… well, not so much. Sometimes, you just have to be patient, even with yourself.

You have to give yourself space and time and warmth. It takes acceptance and resignation. And it takes a good healthy dose of optimism. A word that can be hard to come by, a word that often hides in puddles and underneath rocks. A word that is brighter than sunshine after three weeks of rain.

But you can’t force these things, you can’t make the sun shine through a hurricane. Nor can you bring on the rain. You just have to take cover and wait it out, listen to the howling, the battering, the chaos, and sit there, quietly, until it passes.

There is nothing else to be done.

We can only control so much of this life, there is only so much we can do. Some days it rains, some days there is fog, and some days we reach for the sun. Some days we make our own light, other days we feel tethered to a cloud of grey.

Through it all we can moan and groan and cry and weep or sit and watch the world roll by. Either way, it all keeps happening. Life lives itself with us or without us. Flowers bloom, trees grow, a new season begins.

So you have to be ready when it happens. Ready to pick yourself up and reach for the sky, to blossom and nod your head in the breeze.

You can weather the storm or run hard, against the wind. But either way, you just keep going.

Eventually, those clouds will break.

My husband was really sweet and bought me a zoom lens for Christmas.
I am still figuring out how to work it, but this was my best attempt so far.
Aren’t chickadees just the cutest bird?

I plan to spend the weekend catching up and relaxing,
kind of an oxymoron, but you know what I mean.

It’s cold…single digit cold.

I’ll have to be sure to put some extra food out for these little guys,
they will need to eat a lot to keep warm.

Just like me.

::     ::     ::

What are your plans for the weekend?

patience is a virtue but not one that i am very good at.

spring will come, this mood will pass

i will take another step

forward.

it might be a tiny little bird step

in search of a tiny morsel of seed

but at least

i won’t be

standing still.

Today I am over at

Inspiration Studio

reflecting on reflecting.

Won’t you join me?

On Friday, the sun came peeking out for a bit, a moment my husband and I took advantage of by taking our dog for a walk around the block. At 2.5 miles, it is just the right distance to get some exercise and not get too cold.

All the fresh snow glittered and sparkled in the sunshine, the birds were out and about singing happy, and it was so good to feel the warmth of the sun on my face.

I am still in full-on hermit mode, yesterday was spent in front of the fire, reading and catching up on paperwork, quite boring, really. Although, at no point was I actually bored. I can’t even remember the last time I was bored. There are so many things I want to do, always. And when I choose to do nothing, which is rare, it is a welcome respite from the normal pace of my life.

These moments don’t last, these moments relaxing before the fire in winter, these moments when the sun peeks out in the middle of a storm, these moments walking through a magical afternoon.

Which is exactly what makes them precious and memorable, despite their perfectly boring, ordinary countenance.

Boring but not bored. Quiet but not silent.

Walking hand in hand with winter in

solitude but not alone.

It’s been snowing here for days, and just now as I look out my window, the sun has managed to break through the clouds even as big, fluffy snowflakes continue to drift lazily down onto a sparkling, glittering world.

It’s like living in a snow globe that someone keeps shaking.

I am feeling wonderfully cozy but quite unproductive. Each day I set out
to accomplish this and this and this, and by late afternoon, all I want to do
is make a fire and grab my book. Of course, I first have to finish my work,
but once that is done, to other “to-do” things don’t seem to be calling my name quite as loudly as Hemingway’s writing.

I am going to have a lot to catch up on this weekend.

And though cabin fever has already begun to set in a bit, I love this time of year just for the very fact that I can sometimes push my to-do list aside.
As the year goes on and jewelry season begins, and my garden
begins to grow, that becomes less and less possible.

So for now I shall revel in these days of semi-laziness, revel in the
snow-globe sense of security, revel in the slower pace of life.

Golden moments to immerse myself in, admire, appreciate.

Moments worth much more than their weight in gold
as I sit here on the inside, looking out.

::

Here’s hoping you have a few of those moments
yourself this weekend…

How much power is there, in a word?

If I say it out loud, will this sparrow head for the sky?

If I startle him, he will leap and fly,
but flying is different from soaring.

It’s a subtle difference, but it’s there.

There’s a little bit of a glide involved,
a little less climb, a little more riding the wind.

Maybe there’s a little letting go of the fear,
or the inexperience,
that keeps him grounded.

Either way, simply saying it won’t change a thing.

When that bird is good and ready,
he will spread those wings.

If not today, then tomorrow, or the next.

Deep down he knows nothing else

but to

soar.

this post is part of one word wednesday