When it rains, and it hasn’t rained for five months (but who’s counting?), and your cat goes to hide in the closet because she’s forgotten the sound and is startled out of her wits…that’s when you can delight in the present – for bliss in the form of damp carpets (because you forgot to close the door that’s always open), damp windowsills (because, same reason), and that damp scent up your nose – that magnified smell of everything that surrounds, of wet concrete and earth and neighbors and car exhaust and air blown down from the surrounding hills. I sang, I heard my neighbors sing, the whole little world round me sang the song of falling rain, at least for a spell. The fact that it’s the second day in October and 10 days into the autumnal season (but again, who’s counting?) is only a pleasant perk.
Today is about rest, and creative flow, and self-healing. Yes, that’s it, that’s what I dub this day, and there’s much to be gained. But this isn’t a day to simply laze about with no purpose. No, this is a thoughtful, purpose-driven kind of “laziness” that seeps into my bones and fills my head and soul, like that sweet, sweet, much-needed rain that continues to fall – however briefly – outside my the open windows. The rain lasted a few hours, but I took it for granted and didn’t snap a photo of the first rain of the year. I walked into my massage in a deluge and walked out to dancing sunshine.
I woke up last night with an aching back and arm and knew it had been too long since I’d had a massage. “That’s it, I’m doing it, no more waiting,” I said to my cell phone in the dark, finding a place down the road that let me book a next-day appointment online (another small miracle of convenience) and went to sleep. I feel like I finally slept last night too, I’ve been having some shady sleep cycles this past week – happens every now and then, and I still haven’t figured out the cause. I used to be a very routine go-to-bedder, but I’ve been mixing it up a bit lately. Nothing too crazy, but when you run your own schedule from home, learning what’s too little discipline and what’s not enough, can leave you hanging a bit off the edge if you’re not careful.
It’s been over a year since I veered from the teaching path to full-time writing, and between one giant leap across country and one small step of a move within California, I just now feel like I’m starting to iron out a semblance of a schedule that works for me. And believe me, I need a schedule. The ‘work a little here, do a little of this and that here’ does not work for moi. If my father taught me anything (and let’s face it, he tried to teach me many things, but experience is the best teacher – and my old tried-and-true style has been to resist, deny, and then learn), it’s that discipline breeds freedom, a lesson I learned in good time (though learning it a decade ago wouldn’t have been such a bad thing).
Anyhoo, when you find a person who can find, without speaking, all your knots and most tender points, and use only their hands (and sometimes arms) to coax that trapped energy up and out, it’s yet another present present (a wee homonym gift for ya). She (the masseuse) was also a master of aromatherapy and music selection. A keeper, and my muscles rejoice!
I do massages for prevention and maintenance, as opposed to luxury, though it’s still pampering nonetheless – I don’t pull the wool over my own eyes 😉 But a bit of pampering is called for from time to time, especially when your body cries out, “Knead me! Knead me!” She also suggest I do yoga, and while stretching is part of my morning routine, she’s right; I needed to hear it from a wise person’s mouth, but I think it’s high time I gave in and found another yoga studio.
So, while I was on my kick, I also gave in to a pedicure; it’s been a few months, and pretty feet were not one of my born gifts (not to mention I had a bit of a hang nail that needed a yank – I know, TMI, but all part of the self-healing process…I think).
This all took place after a healthy portion of buckwheat blueberry pancakes and a Sunday morning writing session. For the moment, my body, mind and soul are the coziest kind of happy. I have a couple of other projects in the works too…
A couple of chairs that I scored at Goodwill in my ventures yesterday for $6 a piece – not bad, a very English-style structure, good bones (someone wanted to be in the picture – in every picture, a rare sighting from this prime scaredy cat).
I thought having a couple of spare chairs would be a better idea than sitting in office chairs and a stools round my work table, which we pull out whenever we have dinner guests and eat inside. It’s only happened once – a friend of D’s from Texas came to visit – but I just felt like a rather poor example of a hostess. No more. I intend to give them a painting (the chairs, not my guests), white with some grey peeking through?…and then I had the idea to paint an oblong shape of chalkboard paint on the top back and inside of the chair. Wouldn’t that be a clever way to scroll a guest’s name at a dinner party?
I’ve also (finally) started working on a mandala, which I’ve intended to paint/collage for months (dare I say years?) I won’t give too much away, but will be sure to invite it back for an appearance when it becomes fully realized…
D is on the east coast for a meeting with his team – I will be making my trek over in a couple of weeks, biding my time with great anticipation – so tis just me and skelly…
a couple of swell pumpkin pals…
and some growing green babes from seed (red kale and calendula, naturally…we cross fingers and hope they’re of the surviving variety!)
The pink jasmine vine is also a newcomer, called to me at a lovely family-owned nursery in Santa Rosa that I visited a couple of weeks ago, with high hopes to cover the trellis and give us a view of something other than the fix-it shop next door – the only downside of living at the tail end of one of Sonoma’s main streets.
My stir-fry vegetables are in the slow cooker, because it’s a simmered kind of day…
and I’m off to – who knows? – do more writing, reading, perhaps catch an episode of “Stranger Things” (yes, I started watching on Netflix and am a big flan), and a before-bed epsom salt bath. A reminder that life is good, albeit too short and often bittersweet (so says Ms. Dickinson, nevermore).
Then it’s off to dream of what the week can and will bring.
Until next time, I bid a golden October’s late-afternoon adieu!