Yesterday was hectic. All the usual things, plus a big dog food delivery complete with lots of time hanging out in the freezer, a really helpful conversation with a friend, and — drum roll, please — my Muse painting, my inspiration toward my own best self, now has hair!
I suppose you had to be there, but, trust me, it’s been quite a bumpy journey so far.
She has bio-photons, too. And one of these days she’ll be camera-ready!
Finally, though, the time for feet up and Chopped arrived.
Somewhere between my Facebook farming and a cup of hot water with lemon, I think the contestant chefs were cooking with something called cricket Bolognese, which seemed to involve actual bugs.
The next thing I remember noticing was an ad for some technical college.
You’ve probably seen it. The young cartoon mother works and works until all of her co-workers have been replaced by machines.
Of course, the day arrives when she, too, is made, as the Brits would say, redundant.
Off she goes to learn Information Technology and we viewers are left to assume that she and her family live happily ever after.
I hope so.
Here’s what struck me, though.
The tagline on the ad is “Reinventing yourself for a changing world.”
I can relate.
Somehow, though, this particular Grammy seems to be headed in a different direction.
(Which is probably just as well when it comes to natural skill sets!)
Having developed just enough talent to text my kids and squeeze blog posts out of my laptop, I’m spending most of my time growing leafy green things, boiling bones, and learning the ancient arts of essential oils and putting paint on canvas.
There’s more to it than that, though.
There’s the vital notion of intention.
When I garden and cook I am acting, enormous though it may seem, out of the intention of healing the planet and those with whom I share it.
When I paint, I am acting out of the intention to learn about myself and what it means to heal and be human and create.
(It’s probably about other things, too, but I’m new at this and still working on the big concepts!)
This learning isn’t about gold stars on my permanent record.
It’s about my two girls who are growing up in this world. And your kids. And my neighbors’ kids. And kids in places that have had five new names since I took geography in the 7th grade.
It’s about justice and community.
And the radish I had for lunch yesterday. Just picked. Tiny. Ruby red. Crisp. Peppery. Real.
I’m not saying that all the old ways were good and the new ways are bad.
I am suggesting that we’ve wandered too far from some of what matters.
Perhaps we might intend together to wander back a bit.
For now, another radish or two for lunch and a chapter of Alice Waters’ fabulous new book, Coming to My Senses…the making of a counterculture cook.
Then, more paint. Apparently the Muse wants earrings!