"Mom, Coco (our cat) did something really
bad"...these are not the words you want to hear first thing in the
morning. Oh, God here it comes. "He pooped right on my bed as I was laying
there."
Noooooooo!!
Please. No.
Ok. So many thoughts rushing in my head at this moment. Wait, does this mean I can still go for a run this morning?
Do I finish making Artie's lunch?
Can I hide somewhere? I need to make a comfy beautiful hiding spot in a closet somewhere.
Am I going to throw up when I clean up the poop?
Can Blaise (my husband) clean it up?
Is there someone I can call?
Is there a poem I can write to express how I really feel about cats pooping on beds first thing in the morning?
I mean, I woke up feeling great...Visions of family fun planting a garden. This is the year. We are going to do it...we will grow some beautiful cucumbers.
Well, I did need to wash her sheets anyway...it's been quite a while and she's allergic to dust mites. Maybe Coco is a blessing in disguise.
This smattering of thoughts and ideas all in about 10 seconds in real time.
Life with children. Life with pets. Life. Life. Life.
It's complicated, right?
We are racing through it trying to sift through the muck and poop to find beauty...to maybe leave something behind that is beautiful.
That is the work of the artist...of the creative. And that's you. And that's me. We are all the artist of our own lives.
I was listening to Glennon Doyle on Liz Gilbert's podcast Magic Lessons. She said something so profound and shocking at the same time.
Why did she do her art? What kept her moving forward in the midst of chaos and people criticizing her...??
She said the thing which no one dares to say.
She wants to be Seen.
She wants to leave her mark on the world.
Wow. I was blown away by her brave response. It's something we have such a hard time allowing ourselves to feel, but to say it out loud.
We have been told that we are a narcissistic society. It makes us so scared to share our light with others.
We are not unique in our fear of rejection, in our fear of the shadows. But our gifts to the world are very unique.
Brene Brown says, "The only unique contribution we will make in this world will be born out of creativity."
So, today, I did run. My husband did clean up the poop. And, I am here serving you as I write these words. Taking the chance to be open, to let you know that I see you and in turn hope to be seen.
I collect feathers. Dirty freshly fallen from birds feathers. Sometimes, they even have little bugs on them but most of the time they are beautiful.
Today, I picked up a big feather while on my run and I held it on my run feeling like it was a gift from someone or something.
Then, I saw another feather. I picked up that one too. Then another, then another. Soon, I was seeing feathers EVERYWHERE. Seriously, I don't think I can pick up all these feathers. Cars are driving by seeing this lady running while holding a bunch of feathers. Is that weird?
But, each feather feels special. Each one unique in it's own way. Birds leave these feathers wherever they land, not missing them or even noticing.
So, I will leave you this feather...a poem I wrote a while back...
It's hard for me to share but I think and I hope you'll laugh a little too.
At the end is the "thing" I wrote about but try and guess as you read the poem.
I think on this always.
Sitting there...
Stinks...or maybe even perfectly clean.
I know I always need it
But I don't want it in my head
screaming at me
Laughing at my trying to ignore it.
Fine.
I gather it from all over this place.
ALL OVER THIS PLACE.
I won't make it the way they want you to.
It all goes in together
Spinning, filling, squeezing
Whatever it was.
Always wanting me to deal with the next cycle.
Why would something so mundane be so like the moon?
I shake it.
Each damn one.
I heard someone say this could
be meditative joy.
it doesn't deserve a poem.
I'll put it away for now.
It'll come back again and again.
Again and again.
-The Laundry
Hope to see you soon!!
Shannon
Ok. So many thoughts rushing in my head at this moment. Wait, does this mean I can still go for a run this morning?
Do I finish making Artie's lunch?
Can I hide somewhere? I need to make a comfy beautiful hiding spot in a closet somewhere.
Am I going to throw up when I clean up the poop?
Can Blaise (my husband) clean it up?
Is there someone I can call?
Is there a poem I can write to express how I really feel about cats pooping on beds first thing in the morning?
I mean, I woke up feeling great...Visions of family fun planting a garden. This is the year. We are going to do it...we will grow some beautiful cucumbers.
Well, I did need to wash her sheets anyway...it's been quite a while and she's allergic to dust mites. Maybe Coco is a blessing in disguise.
This smattering of thoughts and ideas all in about 10 seconds in real time.
Life with children. Life with pets. Life. Life. Life.
It's complicated, right?
We are racing through it trying to sift through the muck and poop to find beauty...to maybe leave something behind that is beautiful.
That is the work of the artist...of the creative. And that's you. And that's me. We are all the artist of our own lives.
I was listening to Glennon Doyle on Liz Gilbert's podcast Magic Lessons. She said something so profound and shocking at the same time.
Why did she do her art? What kept her moving forward in the midst of chaos and people criticizing her...??
She said the thing which no one dares to say.
She wants to be Seen.
She wants to leave her mark on the world.
Wow. I was blown away by her brave response. It's something we have such a hard time allowing ourselves to feel, but to say it out loud.
We have been told that we are a narcissistic society. It makes us so scared to share our light with others.
We are not unique in our fear of rejection, in our fear of the shadows. But our gifts to the world are very unique.
Brene Brown says, "The only unique contribution we will make in this world will be born out of creativity."
So, today, I did run. My husband did clean up the poop. And, I am here serving you as I write these words. Taking the chance to be open, to let you know that I see you and in turn hope to be seen.
I collect feathers. Dirty freshly fallen from birds feathers. Sometimes, they even have little bugs on them but most of the time they are beautiful.
Today, I picked up a big feather while on my run and I held it on my run feeling like it was a gift from someone or something.
Then, I saw another feather. I picked up that one too. Then another, then another. Soon, I was seeing feathers EVERYWHERE. Seriously, I don't think I can pick up all these feathers. Cars are driving by seeing this lady running while holding a bunch of feathers. Is that weird?
But, each feather feels special. Each one unique in it's own way. Birds leave these feathers wherever they land, not missing them or even noticing.
So, I will leave you this feather...a poem I wrote a while back...
It's hard for me to share but I think and I hope you'll laugh a little too.
At the end is the "thing" I wrote about but try and guess as you read the poem.
I think on this always.
Sitting there...
Stinks...or maybe even perfectly clean.
I know I always need it
But I don't want it in my head
screaming at me
Laughing at my trying to ignore it.
Fine.
I gather it from all over this place.
ALL OVER THIS PLACE.
I won't make it the way they want you to.
It all goes in together
Spinning, filling, squeezing
Whatever it was.
Always wanting me to deal with the next cycle.
Why would something so mundane be so like the moon?
I shake it.
Each damn one.
I heard someone say this could
be meditative joy.
it doesn't deserve a poem.
I'll put it away for now.
It'll come back again and again.
Again and again.
-The Laundry
Hope to see you soon!!
Shannon
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