Building the life I want to live has taken – and continues to take – time. I find that it is valuable to take a beat to occasionally stop and look around at how the landscape looks.
On Thursday, for example, I celebrated one year at my “new” job. They seem quite happy with me and I know that I am delighted with them. While we all usually stagger our lunchtimes so someone is always available to the public, a co-worker and I worked with another co-worker to manage to have lunch together. We went to a local place that would be walking distance from work if it hadn’t been 95 degrees (it goes by a different name, but was long known as the “Little Moo” and I will continue to call it that because – face it, that name is fantastic!), purchased large cheeseburger baskets, added strawberry-frosted cake slices, and went back to the office to enjoy each other’s company. It was great! Honestly, I like these folks and I’m still marveling at how much I enjoy working hard, then walking out of the office and going home. Prior to the last year, my entire work life was about never quite unplugging and calling that being dedicated. I now know that “business model” (education is not a business; stop that nonsense) is a constant drain on your energy, compassion, and creativity. Work is meant to be part of your identity; not the whole thing. May you figure that out much more quickly than I did.
I left work Thursday and drove to an amazing gathering of women in a neighboring town. This particular gathering involved a book discussion with tea and scones. I left feeling uplifted and peaceful. On my drive home, I was struck by a feeling of utter contentment – Sally Mustang’s top was down, I was driving home through the gentle dusk with a straw hat keeping my definitely-going-silver hair from getting snarled by the wind, wearing sparkly sunglasses against the strong setting sun, all while listening to Ella Fitzgerald sing Cole Porter. I was returning to a home my Beloved and I have very much made our own where I would sit in a comfortable chair with a cat in my lap and we would talk to each other about our days and genuinely listen to the other. At some point, I’d go to my studio – a bedroom that’s been turned into a space where everything sparks a memory and nothing hurts. I’d add a few more pieces to the puzzle I was working on (that’s the picture at the top of the post – I finished it Friday. It wasn’t a hard puzzle, but it’s been on the back burner throughout the 100 Day Art Project!), then I’d get ready for bed and read a little more in the book I’m enjoying.
I know – it’s not a “bright lights, big city” sort of life, but I had that earlier in my time. This is what I want and this is what I’m building. And it’s worth celebrating.
Never forget, Divas, just how wonderful the so-called ordinary is.
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