I'm in another one of my blog slumps.
While I have been known to blog about some very personal feelings, they have always been my own feelings. And I'm OK with exposing what I feel about crap. But the latest pile of crap to shuffle into our house deals with someone else's feelings and it's not OK for me to expose that... it would feel too much like theft. And sadly, trying to work out my own feelings cannot be done in a way that doesn't give too much away of something that is not mine to give. Complicated enough?
So I sit here, in front of this "Create a Post" screen and try to write about the kids, or the chickens, or the ongoing porch light saga, or a random trip to Ikea, and everything is blank. This screen just stares at me and taunts me with the promise of a post I just can't write. Consequently, I'm spending way more time on twitter, where you can't delve too deep in 140 characters or less.
Tonight I made a very simple dinner, throwing together pasta and roasted asparagus with a bit of goat cheese and butter to make a kind of, "mac & cheese's big sister who lives in the city and gets invited to ALL the hip parties, yo." And it was delish. Deeply tasty and perfect and despite the grown up taste, the kids even ate it happily. "This is good!" I remarked to the Mister, who nodded his head in agreement. "The simplest things usually are" he reminded me.
And he's right. Complicated can be beautiful and delicate and perfect, but usually it's messy and hard and hurts. And even when it is beautiful and delicate and perfect, it usually only is for a short amount of time. I wouldn't want to miss those moments. But I'm starting to learn that I cannot expect to live within them all the damn time. And when I settle down and take a deep breath, I can be startled by the beauty, delicacy and perfection in the simple moments I'm too busy to notice. Luckily, simple moments all over the place! They are in the way my kids sprawl out on the floor with paper and pens and scissors, working on art together or simply showing off their work to each other. Simple beauty is in the bird that takes up residence on our roof each summer, singing the whole day without interruption.
Simple delicacy surprises me when I come around a corner and the housemate's cactus has exploded into bloom, a single delicate flower emerging from all that sharp and taking my breath away.
So while I'm floundering in the complexity of relationships and health and primal emotion, I'm also doing my best to focus on the simple things. Hopefully that means I can get back to blogging in a meaningful way soon. Until then, bear with me; and maybe, if you could, share with me something simple and beautiful from your own life.