Monday, September 26, 2005

clearing the clutter

i am a clutterholic, trying desperately to dig out. i've come to realize that on some subterranean level of my subconscious, tending to my clutter is a sophisticated means of subverting my energies and squashing my potential.

right now i subscribe to upwards of 7 magazines, and have something like 12 books checked out from the local library. can we say with some certainty that i read to avoid writing?

so how do i conquer this mountain of clutter, both material and mental?

do i halt all magazine subscriptions, to reclaim the time they've already stolen? and to prevent more torn-out pages of recipes, articles and so-called "inspiration" from piling up, and thereby the sorting, trimming, binding and precious TIME they require?

do i pack away my books? do i require myself 1 written page for every page i read? do i schedule my day full of the things i should be doing, rather than frittering it away on whatever distractions present themselves in the moment?

as i chisel away at the stone walls i've constructed of equal parts fear, anxiety, and laziness, isolation, distraction and wasted opportunity, i covet your prayers and appreciate suggestions for how one goes about reviving their passion and excavating their long-buried creative talents....

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

tumbling blue jays

early this morning ella and i retreated to our back porch, and spent our first moments of the day basking in the glorious virginia weather. while repotting my herbs i attempted to coax my daughter into sniffing their fragrant leaves. then i watered my rainbow-assortment of pansies, and swept potting soil from the porch onto the grass. each movement seemed to captivate my 6-month old.

we watched intently and with broad smiles as a trio of wrestling blue jays came tumbling from the branches of a nearby tree onto the groud below. and as a squirrel darted across the fencepost.

as we soaked up the solace of early morning quiet, the gentle melody of windchimes was intermittently drowned out by the frantic barking of our dog, nash.

so simple. so glorious.