Its truth in my life became evident and unavoidable many years ago, and I have learned to accept it and handle things as gracefully as possible. And to trust the feeling and motion when it comes.
It is much, much more difficult to trust the periods of stagnation.
I've been swept up in motion, changing winds, and exciting spells these last few months. Although at times I let it get the best of me, I've been able to take some time these last few weeks of holiday comings and goings to do my thinking and reflecting in the manner in which I process the masses of information the universe at times chooses to hurl at me.
I've been hit by individual flecks of rain, large gobs of snow, and even a few buckets at times when my attention really needed securing. The most beautiful ones to me are the tiny pecks of rain moments. The ones that pop into your mind months and months later in the midst of a beach walk or while figuring out a finger picking pattern on the guitar.
Here's one: Last year after a concert I wanted to grab a celebratory drink with a good friend and her boyfriend. They weren't going to be joining me at the after party after our one drink, so I skipped over to the group of my friends and went to one and asked him to come along so I wouldn't have to make the trek to the party by myself. I can't quite remember why I chose him, but I just did, and he gladly agreed. Later, walking to our friend's apartment to join the festivities after sharing a few pints of my favorite Berkshire porter and spending 30 minutes debating which cheeses to get at the supermarket, I noticed him in a way that confused me, but that I didn't give much thought that particular night.
Nearly ten months later, this moment flitted back to mind in the midst of a salsa dance class while facing my partner, the one and same cheese and porter accomplice. I couldn't help but laugh at myself.
People come and go in our lives so quickly, and some you forget so carelessly. How wonderful to be given time with people who are paying as much attention as you would, and do.
And how sweet indeed, to finally notice something that has been there, right under your nose, for a very long and patient time, and to finally have a bit of courage and knowledge to write something, say something, and create something new and frightfully beautiful. And I'm not just talking about the scones, lemon curd, and whipped cream that was today's joint project.
Musings from the Somerville kitchen; and now my dinner is quite ready to be savored.
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