Thursday, April 26, 2012

Walk 1.61 Miles In My Brainshoes...

I just caught a glimpse of the one thing I forgot to do today...the poor sick sad aloe plant I keep meaning to rescue.  Whoops.   Nobody's perfect...and there's still time to save it and have it overtake another room in the house just like Audrey 2 did.  

I wasn't planning on writing this, or anything today, since I gave myself a day to be off the hook with the writing/picture thing, but I was feeling compelled to most of the walk back.  Just know that just as I did not use the crosswalk to save time and ended up wasting way more time waiting to cross somewhere ELSE, I have thrown theme/format/points out the window.  Starting with run-on sentences, and ending with prepositions that I'll be ending sentences...WITH!

I started walking today because I was hungry. Not metaphorically, surprisingly, since I do loves me some metaphors and generally like to juice the universe for succulent I doing it again?  And if so, am I implying the universe is an orange? 

ANYWAY...I had decided if I was going to treat myself to lunch outside the house, then myself was going to need to walk there.  I started out today a bit frustrated, having cursed vigorously at the Pilates lady who was clearly trying to make a fool out of me.  The problem with me sometimes is that I hit a point where I feel like I'm failing or about to fail and I figure it's better to cut my losses and try something else.  And this is why I am absolutely adamant about this 21 day thing.  Today was the first day I felt like "eh, it's never gonna happen, give it up."  For such a stupid reason, too.  1 of the 4 goals I'd set, I was having trouble with.  Simply because I *could* do Pilates much more easily when I did it....I dunno, 5 years ago?   Such.flawed.logic.

Shortly after I started off on my walk, the robot lady in my phone (not Siri, though...I spose she's the real robot lady in my phone) started yelling stats on my walk at me.  Including pace.  Every day I've improved my pace, even when I wasn't really trying to, like today.  And that's progress.  And...that put into perspective my pained hundreds this morning.  Though I maintain that I still don't like that lady.

Shortly thereafter, as girls are wont to do, I started analyzing my wardrobe choices for the day.  And I laughed a little because in my analytics, I realized these jeans have a nice drop of Tuscan yellow paint on them.  I remember saying that wouldn't happen, and furthermore that it would come out anyway.   It did and it didn't, of course.   But that matters less than you'd think.  The yellow paint turns out to remind me of good-in-the-bad.  The yellow paint was to make a tiny room that belongs to someone important to me now seem more cheerful.  I'm not entirely sure how effective that was, to be honest, but other good things came of it.  It cheers me up seeing the paint and remembering feeling like maybe it *would* make a difference, and if it did,  maybe I'd be a little part of that. It's a little bit "travelling pants" but I really don't care to get that yellow spot off.

My next thought was simple. "Sometimes I wish someone would come paint my room yellow."
For a minute I scolded myself for being bitter, but then I thought "At least I'm being honest." For as much as I haul off and take great expeditions to find people, sometimes I wish it was the other way around more.  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the people closest to me have painted my room yellow through the years.  Whether that was at a Denny's to drag me out of my own depression, flying to New Mexico, or holding a tiny sign for me at the airport because I said I'd always wanted someone to do that for me.

By this time I was almost downtown, passing by the church with the red door.  I'm usually too distracted by the red door to really look inside.  There were big crystal-clear vases with daffodils and a few other flowers at every window.  One of the doors that wasn't usually open was wide open, and the sun was streaming through the windows on the other side.  It looked...really inviting.  For a minute I felt lucky to feel comfortable in churches, and I thought about going in.

I've always liked the big cathedrals, stained glass windows, cold creaky pews, and dusty streams of sunlight that pour in them.  I find I'd rather be in churches alone these days.  Because it's not about anything then, you know?

You can be there for any reason, believe in God or don't. 
But you can feel small and be still, and sometimes that's important.
Sometimes I think it's better just to sit still.  And maybe you don't believe in anything beyond this or maybe you do.  But I think everyone should take a chance and sit in silence.
Breathe and listen to the echoes,  feel a little dwarfed...let go of something.  Pretend for a minute you aren't in control of everything.

 Because you're not, and maybe sitting in the silence and trying to make peace with that is ok.

Sure, you don't need to be in a sanctuary for that, but there is something about it.  Just like there's something about the carved out place in a canyon at sunset...that far eclipses any array of stained glass I've ever run into.   Try it some time.  Try both.

I have and I'm better for it. A little better every day.
Tschussi machst gut!

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