Wednesday, 11 February 2009

This is Supposed to Be Good For Me, But it Probably Won't Happen Again


Mr. S. likes to say that I think too much.


Sarah recently had a lovely post about potential; about that moment when your brain flexes and you start the process of nudging your limits around. She referenced a couple of other bloggers who had recently written about keeping it real, and now there's an In Real Life Flikr group. Right now I'm trying to keep my brain from going off in all directions like an exploding puffball of bunny tails, but here goes.


I don't do keeping it real. Not here, not in real life. Editing is my coping mechanism. Managing is the sweet music of my bedtime story. Mr. S. is probably afraid I'm going to manage him to the ground ;-) This seems to be in direct conflict with keeping it real. How to appreciate the beauty of the everyday when you'd really rather be vacuuming some of it up? I like a clean house. That doesn't mean it always happens. That doesn't mean I always care. It does mean that I try. I really do.


There are so many voices out there. Some of them shout, some of them whisper, but they are still other people's voices.

"The unexamined life is not worth living!"
"The unlived life is not worth examining!"
"Relax, let go, live in the moment!"
"Be wise, plan!"
"Be real!"
"Clean your room!"

ha!


As I read Safiya The Encyclopedia of Dinosaurs for the hundred-thousandth-umpteenth time this evening, me with a bowl of not-fair-trade-not-organic pineapple in my lap (a most welcome gesture from Mr. S. the other day) and she with Sugar Snaps (!) in hers (a gesture from my father-in-law) finally a quiet, most welcome, voice came into my head that said to me calmly, "it's my life. all other voices can be taken under advisement, but it's my life."

What does my voice say?

i live with others who i love. i hum a little, dance once in a while, make a lot of food, clean, do some other stuff, try to pay attention, and in the end there is that pure aloneness which could be oneness, and that's why "it's my life" matters. just as i am. and my choices are my own.

My voice also says that homemade peanut butter cups are worth examining.


'Cause life with homemade peanut butter cups is worth living.


Now excuse me while I go clean....

3 comments:

katharine said...

To be truthful about your ability tolet go you should have included pictures of the playroom after my kids have been through it.

That kind of mess can ramp up the volume on those subliminal hang ups better than anything else.

Unfortunately I wasn't given the clean gene so any picture of my house, any day any time would serve as a reasonable substitute.

Things Hand Made said...

I find the battle between having a clean orderly life and living life quite hard. I worry that others will judge me on it and I often need the clean orderly ness to have structure to my life. But your right.. it is my life. Good foof for thought, thanks

Paige said...

Hey Marnie, this is one of the best posts I've read in a long time. I can't tell you how much I can relate...
I feel the same way about my house. I swear I can't think or chill if stuff is strewn about everywhere and completely disorganized. Which doesn't mean I'm running after everyone with a dustpan in my hand, but at the end of the day I can't sit down and relax in a disaster zone. I've tried, but I cannot do it.
"It's my life," is right. Now I'm gonna go check out those peanut butter cups.