Being Real

Soemtimes there is just so much to say.  I just don’t know where to start.

I am deciding to start with being real.

I wish I could say that this week has been a week of prolific creation, and in some regards it has.  But mostly it has been a week of me taking care of my family.  Holding my baby who is teething with an early autumn cold. And teething almost the very last of her baby teeth.

I’ve been taking care of a counter full of vegetables that I am very much committed to fully honoring.  They have been sliced and diced, cooked or baked and frozen.  Now I have a frezzer full of ready made cassoroles, breads, and soup.  As well as a few jars of raw pickles.   And man does that feel good.

My house is getting the attention that a house gets when the Mommy isn’t wearing side blinders in order to guiltlessly escape chores to get into the ceramics studio to make stuff.  This week I have been dilligently staying on top of the messes, the laundry pile.  Our bed is getting made.

On the flip side I wonder if I’m avoiding my studio and my creativity because last week I made a successful creative leap and I want to live up to the last peice and I don’t know if I can do it again.

or maybe I just need a break?  Or I just need to let up on myself and realize that I am a woman balancing all of the dream come trues of my present moment, with the dreams I am so excited to make come true.

There are mountains of projects and piles of dreams and ambitions longing to live outside of my being, that only have a fighting chance of being realized during an hour and a half at naptime, or after 9.

And instead of tackling those mountains, I retreat to the garden, because the days when I can do so without shoes on are numbered and I love to hear the buzz of the bugs all excited after its been watered.  They are my people.  It is my steady place against which I can compare the days to each other and notice that the air and energy is completely shifting, and so are the animals.  I get to observe slow things, like the leaves on the cucumber vine are beginning to brown on the edges and it is now in the shade earlier in the day than it was before.

I love being in the garden.  I am replenished there.  Nourished, and fed by those plants in so many ways.

And I suppose that that is just as important as the work in my studio, and my projects and dreams and ambitions.  So these days I’m enjoy my garden while the season lasts.  And being present for my baby while she’s still little.

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2 Comments

  1. martha jewel said,

    September 24, 2010 at 7:20 am

    To everything there is a season. Just keep blessing us with your beautiful words and pictures.

  2. September 25, 2010 at 6:01 am

    It doesn’t get more real than this, and being present at this time is so important. Love & miss you, grandma


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