musing

truth is a slippery bar of soap in a warm lavender-oil-filled tub: you can try your best to hunt it down, or you can just lie back, relax and enjoy. and who knows, it might just drift straight into your hand.

there is this little big piece of truth that i have been diligently trying to catch for some time: what is it that i'm missing in life? all i want is to enjoy time with my children and to feed my soul (by giving the artist in me some time to work, some time to play, some time to move, some time to muse, some time to snooze). and the ingredients are right here: the children (two, loveliest of the loveliest, truly magnificent adorable, fantasmagorically delicious creatures), the time (boh with the children and without them), the tools of the trade (a pen, a notebook, a handful of wonderful friends, some yoga dvds, meditation cds, books and books and more books, a beach, a forest, a sewing machine, a stereo, a computer, two hands, two feet, one heart). and yet...

why is it that i spend most of my days with my children wondering how many hours there are before evening comes and i am free, and then spend most of my evenings missing my children like crazy and talking about what i will do with them the next day (or, alternatively, eating chocolate in front of the telly)? why do i spend entire child-filled weeks fantasizing about the miracles soon to come out of my busy sewing hands, only to spend my sewing day listlessly leafing through some magazines and wishing Marc and the children would come home soon? why am i constantly coveting other people's lives, bodies, homes, camera's, backyards, professions, creations, nationalities and blogs? why does it seem so often like the thing that i'm looking for is 'just around the corner'? like the truth, the final and absolute truth that will set me free is lurking in the very next book, the one i am just now, at this very moment, ordering from amazon.com?

when really, all this time, it's just been floating around in my bathtub.

it's that living-in-the-moment thing. AGAIN. and that acceptance thing. AGAIN. the walls this donkey loves to bang her head upon. here is a little experiment i'd like to try. just for a few days. it's called 'groundFog day'. in the days to come, whenever i find myself wishing i were someplace (or sometime) else, instead of counting the seconds/minutes/hours to freedom, i will imagine that in fact, i'm stuck in this moment, the one i don't seem to be liking that much, forever and ever and ever. this is it, this baby-with-the-massive-cold-who-just-won't-sleep-at-three-hours-past-his-bedtime-but-instead-is-destroying-what-is-left-of-my-left-breast-and-singing-happily-to-himself-while-clawing-at-me-with-nails-that-should-have-been-cut-a-week-ago. this is my life. this moment. forever and ever.

feel the despair. get past the despair. relax. breathe (AGAIN? yep). and then, weirdly enough, start enjoying. or at least, accepting. off we go, then. on to deal with the chirping next door. wish me luck.