I've been in building mode. Honestly, I've loved this house as much as I've hated it. When we moved in it looked like it hadn't been touched(except for the cheap renter's linoleum on the bathroom floor) since the 1960's?
But for me it is never about what it IS now, it is about what it CAN be. Everywhere I looked, colors blossomed. I pulled up a corner of the carpet to discover nearly pristine oak floors and over time, I've been going on manic binges of redoing rooms. I rip up carpet, spend hours singing along to my iPod while on my hands and knees prying up carpet tack and staples. I've spent hours scraping peeling paint off the walls and even more hour refinishing furniture and assembling and making furniture. I kind of love that my dad taught me how to use a circular saw, the chop saw, a bigass nailgun, how to cut tile, how to solve problems. Mostly it is the building of things I like- making things better, useful, colorful.
Right now, the window is wide open and and the dark blue sheers are billowing out with the breeze, rippling like water. Why do so many people want things to be beige and white? I want my world full of color. And even though it drives the girls crazy, I take my favorite pictures and blow them up to massive sizes(thank you Canon) on gallery canvases and I've been putting them up everywhere.
It isn't about me showing everyone how great and perfect my little family is... it's about capturing a moment, light and color, and someone I love. Why would we not wallpaper our homes with what we love. It makes no sense to me.
So, I have spent the past 24 hours with a small break for sleeping, cursing and sighing and other angsty things tryng to put together some pieces from Ikea to organize all my stuff.
I came across my pair of ice skates. We go occasionally. Dean and I used to take lessons together. That was fun. But looking at those white boots and sharp blades, I could close my eyes and remember skating on the pond in the village where I lived in Germany. I remember at first, picking my way down to the ice, skeptical. It was rough, bumpy and sometimes there were sticks and leaves or other detritus that had blown onto the ice from the shoreline. I remember being stiff and scared that at any moment I would hit a bump or chink or rough patch in the ice and fly like a pancake across the ice. And I did that a couple times. One time I laid there on my back looking up at the sunny sky after a big wipe out and then suddenly I was surrounded by a huge group of little faces in red and blue and green and striped knit hats, kids with mittens and scarves. The boys openly guffawed at me, some of the little girls giggled behind their hands until I started laughng, too.
And then I wasn't scared anymore. And that was the secret to it- to go, be light, be free. We're so used to living by the regular laws of gravity. Gravity doesn't make much sense in my life, though.
Like skating on that natural ice- which I then did every chance I got, its about being free, being light, flying. Its a perspective about everything I love to do- horseback riding- galloping over the hills, flying over jumps, swimming- being tossed with no up or down by the ocean waves, diving off the board feeling like I'm sailing weightlessly for just a moment, singing- which is like nothing else for setting me free from the things that tie me down. It sounds silly but, for me, its like I can get into the music and rise up above everything else.
So what am I afraid of? What are you afraid of? We just need to set ourselves free. The laws of gravity do not apply here.