January
I had a dream the other night that I was visiting this touristy little town called Everitt. The main attraction was a castle surrounded by a flag lined fence. There was a celebration going on. Inside, lords and ladies dressed in wigs and fancy clothing were dancing in a grand ballroom. The next room was a huge gymnasium where we swam in the indoor wood lined swimming pool. Next to the castle was a beautiful park with a large lake. There were swans a swimming and lots of green grass and trees with lovely shady places. It was a gorgeous summer day. I have been dreaming of summer every night since then. I obviously miss it haha.
It's musical time at school! This year we are doing Cinderella, which I think explains the rest of my dream. I have played for Cinderella before and unfortunately, it's not one I really want to repeat. We're only 2 weeks in and I already feel like the work I've done is too much and not worth it. The songs are becoming torturous earworms. Ugh. Not a good sign. But I'm going to try my best to have a good attitude about it and find some fun in the process.
January can be such a drag. I feel like I've been struggling to get through each day. But it can also be a great time to hunker down and get some real work done. That inspiration has not hit me yet but maybe this week. I am giving myself permission to feel sad about things. Because that's how things go in January sometimes. I like this poem that has been popping up in my circles over the last week. It reminds me that time keeps marching on and soon enough, I will have survived another January.
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good. |
You do not have to walk on your knees |
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. |
You only have to let the soft animal of your body |
love what it loves. |
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. |
Meanwhile the world goes on. |
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain |
are moving across the landscapes, |
over the prairies and the deep trees, |
the mountains and the rivers. |
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, |
are heading home again. |
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, |
the world offers itself to your imagination, |
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - |
over and over announcing your place |
in the family of things. |
I missed this post and I adore those pictures and your dream. I have been seeing the Mary Oliver poem on her passing too. I know you will come out of this and be super creative soon. Feb is giving you a punch but soon grasshopper!!! :) hang in there.
ReplyDelete