|Your Choice (collage on nujabi paper, fabrics, rice and specialty papers)|
On this slushy, cold and damp Sunday afternoon, I find myself moping around, moving from one unfinished project to another. I touch papers and canvases, fiddle with the oils and pastels, picking up, putting down, shifting side to side.
Ho, hum . . . this is not good. Usually I go charging ahead in the new year, filled with goals and promises. But not this one.
This year it's more like a total pull-back. For so long, I've dashed about, becoming a jack of all trades, master at none -- except at my work. Over 25 years in the world of libraries and information research. Nothing to sneeze at . . . and yet --
Feeling anxious, tired of the same-old, same-old. Of course, as soon as you say that, watch out. Life throws a whammie your way, and you instantly regret those thoughts.
Like the small work above, I suppose it's a choice of whether to continue moping and sighing, or just to get on with it. In a bit I'll light the fire, pull some crochet (my "gargantuan" granny afghan) onto my lap along with a mystery book and settle in for the duration.
So, hold tight, listen for the bird calls, find the tiny footprints in the snow -- the little things of life -- simplicity, a time for a general hunkering down and drawing inward. Just like the natural world.
I think I just convinced myself that this ennui is part of the seasonal process. Soon the gardening and seed catalogs will start arriving in the mail, a sure sign that spring is on the way.
* * *
“I prefer winter . . . when you feel the bone structure of the landscape -
the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it,
the whole story doesn't show.”