I watched a movie last night, a funny movie that took me through joy into disgust and fear, tromping through envy and laughter and not just a little inspired to be more...more...well, more.
The main character was silly and fun but also steady in life. She feared that she was boring. I paused the movie there. I realized that I was holding my breath. On the exhale, I whispered "me too" and I got a little teary.
I'm sort of a homebody. I love this space that I've crafted to be my nest, cocoon, big hug at the end of the day away. I long for more time to cuddle my dogs, do yoga with my cat and domesticate my chicks more so that they might do some amazingly awesome things like my previous chickens did...like pecking on the sliding door to come in and lay their eggs quite noisily in abandoned Easter baskets just inside. I like to clean my house. I like to do my yard work. I like to talk to my trees that are still in their early years and vulnerable yet. My favorite place to read lately is curled up in my hanging basket chairs and I'm constantly on the hunt for a mosquito net to hang over my outdoor clawfoot tub. My bed is like a cloud and I really love cooking lately. I've discovered Salt n Pepa on Pandora and I get my groove on all over this little castle of mine. I've been listening to Jordan Petersen's Maps of Meaning lecture series and re-learning French. I'm fiercely attuned to rhythms these days...of mood, of season, of lunar phase, of thought. I'm deep in studying history as it pertains to my fascinating family tree, reading voraciously and taking classes on skywatching.
I have to laugh.