Apples and roads and gratitude
Without the time and space to enjoy things in life they slip by us like leafs slipping down a silvery stream, and suddenly those things are lost, forever.
I've really been noticing this, this flow of life, that moves so swiftly, whether we are taking in all that is around us or not, and that a lot lately, I'm not. Whether it's because I'm late for work, or have scheduled my time too scarcely, or am simply stuck in the doldrums of my sadness, I am sorry to say I miss a lot of the beauty in the life around me, simply by not paying attention or letting it inside myself. I am sorry to say this, it's not a healthy place for me to reside, especially for someone like me; because, I live on beauty, I am sustained on moments of grace and gratitude, -transcending the wrote life for one that sits with wide eyes on your chest and purrs or sings all the words to that country song blaring in the car through my busted out speakers.
Yesterday, I woke up and worked on some stuff with my heart.
Stuff is really starting to shift and I am so thankful, even if a little shell-shocked and frightened, but it's good, it's time to let my heart be loved again.
I've held onto the story of pain and suffering for too long now.
Yesterday I walked out into the orchard, and, barefoot, picked the biggest apples I've ever seen our orchard produce, they were dripping off the trees like red jewels and the trees seemed delighted to give the bounty away. I felt like a tree fairy, like I used to play so many moons ago, when the goats and the orchard trees were my first best friends.
I packed up my car, filling it with just the necessities; computer, camera, warm sleeping bag, dance shoes, my freshly picked apples and all the makings for pie (including my apron) and a cooler packed by my sweet, incredible mom with the extra overflow food from our very make shift kitchen.
With my heart swelling with love and thankfulness as I got in my little Victoria (that's my cars name) and turned over the key, reversing out into the dirt road, I waving to my mom's outstretched arms as she stood by the gate with my pup, sending me off in style.
I finally didn't have to fight my urge to not turn off 133 and instead I pointed my car east and just kept driving.
I drove to Denver in the dark, listening to a book on tape about a man who remembers all his past lives and remembers his true love through centuries of time, but she doesn't remember him. It's kinda a draggy book, too much explanation, but an interesting premise.
I crested the hill over Denver and could see all of the sparkling city layed out before my like some beautiful sequined blanket. It glowed orange against the black of the night and I felt a shiver cross my spine.
Driving down the hill past places I've known and finding my way in the city, my radio turned up and my window rolled down, singing along to Eric Church thumping my thumbs on the steering wheel.
I could feel the energy of the city, and it was welcome, enjoyable, delighting me in its lights and possibility.
I found my way to my destination with little bits of getting lost, but a kind of pride that I knew mostly where I was, even if my genius phone did not.
And then I was through the doors of the Mercury Cafe and climbing up the stairs to the sound of music and then out into the upstairs ball room room filled with people dancing the blues.
Much dancing, laughing, merriment, talking and more dancing ensued.
It was the first time in such a long time I felt stable on the dance floor, not on my legs, but secure in myself, myself as I am now.
It's good to remember that I sometimes have things to offer and can actually hold a kind of joy in dance.
I forget that.
After dancing till the very last song, and talking with friends and generally feeling loved by my community of incredible dancers, I got my coat and boots and drove to my hosts house.
It's this tiny adorable apartment in the quiet suburbs of Denver.
I love it. And I love my host. Her name is Sasha and she is originally from Russia. She made me scrambled eggs and bacon on her little white stove at 2 in the morning and we talked openly and honestly till 4am curled in blankets on the pull out sofa. I really like her, I feel so at ease in her presence. And she seems to in mine.
I'll be staying here with her for a few days, I have work off for the week and I am breathing a sigh of relief to be out of the valley and with new people and surrounding myself with people who I feel valued and loved by. I know there will be much dancing, and hanging out with good people, and letting the days slips between me and around me, filling me in a way I have forgotten about for some time.
That was my day.
Today I just woke up in her apartment and don't have the foggiest of what I'll do today. And I love it. Happy day to you, may gratitude find you, and happiness be at your back. Thank you for blessing me.
I've really been noticing this, this flow of life, that moves so swiftly, whether we are taking in all that is around us or not, and that a lot lately, I'm not. Whether it's because I'm late for work, or have scheduled my time too scarcely, or am simply stuck in the doldrums of my sadness, I am sorry to say I miss a lot of the beauty in the life around me, simply by not paying attention or letting it inside myself. I am sorry to say this, it's not a healthy place for me to reside, especially for someone like me; because, I live on beauty, I am sustained on moments of grace and gratitude, -transcending the wrote life for one that sits with wide eyes on your chest and purrs or sings all the words to that country song blaring in the car through my busted out speakers.
Yesterday, I woke up and worked on some stuff with my heart.
Stuff is really starting to shift and I am so thankful, even if a little shell-shocked and frightened, but it's good, it's time to let my heart be loved again.
I've held onto the story of pain and suffering for too long now.
Yesterday I walked out into the orchard, and, barefoot, picked the biggest apples I've ever seen our orchard produce, they were dripping off the trees like red jewels and the trees seemed delighted to give the bounty away. I felt like a tree fairy, like I used to play so many moons ago, when the goats and the orchard trees were my first best friends.
I packed up my car, filling it with just the necessities; computer, camera, warm sleeping bag, dance shoes, my freshly picked apples and all the makings for pie (including my apron) and a cooler packed by my sweet, incredible mom with the extra overflow food from our very make shift kitchen.
With my heart swelling with love and thankfulness as I got in my little Victoria (that's my cars name) and turned over the key, reversing out into the dirt road, I waving to my mom's outstretched arms as she stood by the gate with my pup, sending me off in style.
I finally didn't have to fight my urge to not turn off 133 and instead I pointed my car east and just kept driving.
I drove to Denver in the dark, listening to a book on tape about a man who remembers all his past lives and remembers his true love through centuries of time, but she doesn't remember him. It's kinda a draggy book, too much explanation, but an interesting premise.
I crested the hill over Denver and could see all of the sparkling city layed out before my like some beautiful sequined blanket. It glowed orange against the black of the night and I felt a shiver cross my spine.
Driving down the hill past places I've known and finding my way in the city, my radio turned up and my window rolled down, singing along to Eric Church thumping my thumbs on the steering wheel.
I could feel the energy of the city, and it was welcome, enjoyable, delighting me in its lights and possibility.
I found my way to my destination with little bits of getting lost, but a kind of pride that I knew mostly where I was, even if my genius phone did not.
And then I was through the doors of the Mercury Cafe and climbing up the stairs to the sound of music and then out into the upstairs ball room room filled with people dancing the blues.
Much dancing, laughing, merriment, talking and more dancing ensued.
It was the first time in such a long time I felt stable on the dance floor, not on my legs, but secure in myself, myself as I am now.
It's good to remember that I sometimes have things to offer and can actually hold a kind of joy in dance.
I forget that.
After dancing till the very last song, and talking with friends and generally feeling loved by my community of incredible dancers, I got my coat and boots and drove to my hosts house.
It's this tiny adorable apartment in the quiet suburbs of Denver.
I love it. And I love my host. Her name is Sasha and she is originally from Russia. She made me scrambled eggs and bacon on her little white stove at 2 in the morning and we talked openly and honestly till 4am curled in blankets on the pull out sofa. I really like her, I feel so at ease in her presence. And she seems to in mine.
I'll be staying here with her for a few days, I have work off for the week and I am breathing a sigh of relief to be out of the valley and with new people and surrounding myself with people who I feel valued and loved by. I know there will be much dancing, and hanging out with good people, and letting the days slips between me and around me, filling me in a way I have forgotten about for some time.
That was my day.
Today I just woke up in her apartment and don't have the foggiest of what I'll do today. And I love it. Happy day to you, may gratitude find you, and happiness be at your back. Thank you for blessing me.
