A funny thing happens when you blog or journal...some parts of what you capture seem to come alive and take on their own trajectory once they are inked. My dad has a phrase for this in speaking that seems similar -- the idea is that once you say something it is now, "in the air." Anyone can hear it, grab it, claim it, use it from that point on. It's become it's own thing.
Since blogging on some things I've learned in travels, my brain has rushed to come up with other things I've realized I've learned in my 41 years of glorious existence. A few years ago, I took a training seminar on Getting Things Done. I don't remember much of it, but I distinctly recall this one thing -- the instructor said, "Pay attention to things that have your attention or you'll give them more attention than you need." The idea is -- deal with it when it hits you and then move on. If you don't, it'll linger and pester and fester and bug you and end up taking way more time that it ever deserved.
All that to say, I keep thinking of these dang little lessons so I'm going to capture them and then get them out of my brain. I hope.
1. I remember as a kid watching my mom slowly soak her white dish towels in a bleach-water solution. I thought that was absolutely ridiculous. Who cares if they have stains? They are dish towels! My mom also always worked hard to keep a lovely yard, with flowers and lovely landscaping. She would regularly ask for "hanging baskets" for mother's day gifts or birthdays. I also found this bizarre. Who cares? Within the last year, I've begun to get this. Part of it is pride of ownership, certainly. Taking care of the things you own. Keeping them looking good and in good order. But, there is another element for me, and maybe for mom, too. Not sure. I feel better when I'm in a place of order, beauty, cleanliness. Just this summer, I got a few flowers for my backyard. I can't believe how much I enjoy seeing them there every day. It's not that I was a flower hater before -- I just didn't connect it to my well being. This morning, I was folding up my dish towels as I took them from the dryer. I noticed some stains. Thought of my mom's old kitchen sink with the little basin in it. Time to soak these; it'll make me feel better.
2. I confess that for 37 years, I didn't make my bed. At least not regularly. I was hard core in the "why bother when I'm just going to climb back in there in a few hours" camp. What happened at age 37 to make this routine come to a grinding halt? I got a divorce and found myself living in a tiny apartment all alone for the first time, well, ever. I had zero furnishings, nick nacks, stuff. Pretty much just walked out. I got a bed and a tv and a bean bag. I had nothing to do. Some days I'd just sit there in silence and stare at the wall. Nothing to do. No one to talk to. It was quite a weird time. I started making my bed. I didn't realize I was doing it at first. I don't know why I started doing it, but I'm guessing it was for something to do. I would notice that when it was time to go to bed (quite early then, sometimes 6 PM) I liked the feeling of having to pull the covers back and crawl in. It felt comfortable and structured and clean. I needed all those things. I realized when I walked into my bedroom, I liked seeing it made. I felt like at least one thing was working right for me. I've never stopped making my bed. I cannot stand seeing it unmade now. If it weren't creepy, I'd stand right next to the bed staring at my husband waiting for him to get out so I could immediately make it. Just kidding. Maybe.
3. Hummingbirds, butterflies, bees, and spiders are my friends. I've really never been a bird or insect person. I have a lifelong feud going with spiders. In the last year, we worked really hard to create this perfect little backyard oasis. The kind where your soul goes to find rest. And create it we did. But no one told me that backyard oasises (how does that become plural??) where souls rest come with creatures. We're awash in creepy crawly things. Especially spiders. Can a Rachel and a spider co-habitate? Can my desire to smash, stomp, crunch or otherwise annihilate can be controlled? Turns out, they can. In recent times, I've done things such as gently move a spider web aside to walk under it and AND I actually said to a spider OUT LOUD the other day, "hey buddy." Someone call 911, because I've obviously died. There is something really nice about the tiny little environment of all these things working together to make this perfect place. Everyone has a time and place. Except the wasps. Those jerks. I like seeing the spiders crawl into hiding as the sun rises and floods the garden with early morning streaks of light. I like knowing the hummingbirds have figured out they can eat well at our feeder and seeing them show up at set times and thinking about how they seem to also eat 3 squares a day all sugar and don't gain weight. I like naming our dragonflies (like Karch Karaly, who always watches over our volleyball net) and watching them land on my fingertips to gently say hello. I love that the bees also love our basil and the tiny flowers are the perfect size for them. They quietly buzz all around it with each flower emergence. I cannot get over the fact that we bought one milkweed and one fennel plant at a master gardener sale and now have butterflies that twirl and dance and play in our yard every day. It was thrilling to discover that the most disgusting looking blob of stuff on our lime leaves was, in fact, a caterpillar who perfectly hides himself by looking like bird poo. He ate about 8 leaves and then left to do his magic. We often wonder which butterfly he is when they come to dance in the late afternoons. How come no one told me there was joy in the tiny pockets of life all around us? How come no one ever mentioned how great it feels to be a part of this little community where everyone works together to create beauty and, in return, gets rewarded?
4. Growing your own food is such an incredible feeling. I've always had a black thumb. I couldn't keep the most hearty house plant alive. For most of my years, I never kept any plants because, well, I couldn't. Having a producing garden to look at is so oddly rewarding. Everyday, there is a small harvest of something. A couple of okra, basil, maybe some tomatoes, jalapenos. Cooking up our first potatoes was way too exciting. I mean, seriously. Why is that so fun? I'm anxiously awaiting carrots. I've never grown one and can't figure out how you know exactly. But I can't wait. Last winter, I picked 6 meyer lemons and vowed to never complain about the price of organic lemons again because it took me 6 months to grow 6 lemons and they were the most delicious, exquisite lemons I could imagine.
There is more. I'll capture it when it hits. Would love to hear what you're learning:)
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