Pale the wall.
Love moves away.
The light changes;
I need more grace
than I thought.
Today I am sending you out a wish for a day full of more grace to easily flow into all situations, to embrace the shifts, large and small, that occur, and to melt into just allowing things to naturally unfold as they will along the yellow brick road of life. Even as the seasons change and vary. In the exact way that it always been meant to unfold for the one whom is uniquely you.
Yesterday, I received my first bit of mail! It came via the guardian, Jeff, as he was coming to fix a lightbulb in our bathroom. The same lightbulb he comes everyday to fix, yet it still somehow is flashing in all of it’s ferocious flourescence. I love it because I can have my raves and dubstep parties in the bathroom after Tom and Julie go to bed, but it’s not the best for doing one’s hair or painting giant fake tears onto your face to mime on the street corners. Also, it’s already caused several seizures (although it could be all the Pokemon we’ve been watching) so we are hoping he fixes it one of these times soon.
Every time he comes to visit, he speaks to me in French, tosses in some Arabic, and adds a pinch of what I think is Spanish, even though we both know he can speak nearly perfect English. He is a really turned around little man who has me confused between whether or not I ask “Ca va?”, “Kayfa Haluk?” or “Como se dice, ‘I have no clue what you’re saying’?”
This master electrician also specializes in mail delivery services, shoveler extraordinaire, and 24/7 laundromat. The guy never stops working –and I suppose if I worked as hard as he did I would be jumbling my languages together as well. Especially considering I do nothing all day and still get all the swear words from other languages mixed up when yelling at the vacuum.
The card he brought me also came with a slip of paper that said, “We tried to deliver you a package and you were not home. What on earth were you doing instead of sitting around at home waiting for a parcel?” In order to get said mail, which I think is a book I ordered, I had to run this morning to the post office to pick it up. The reason for the running was threefold.
1. Tom cannot be left alone very long by himself
2. The post office is only open 8am -12pm (and they still make sure they lock everyone out until around 10…I kid you not, I could not open the door this morning until I rang the bell several times, and for once it had nothing to do with me not being able to tell the difference between “push” and “pull”).
3. I have been dying to run! I love it and miss it. I am excited about all of this skiing stuff, snowshoeing, snow ball fighting, but if you hand me a warehouse full of the world’s finest ski’s, poles, and boots know that I will probably be exuberant because I can use all the new equipment to sail my way down to the nearest running shoe shop for a 10K around the town.
So, I pulled on my bright pink velcro Converse sneakers, and took off jogging into the chilly abyss. Hours later, my lungs are still defrosting. But it felt amazing! Steep hills, icy patches to dance around, and mountain goats to leap over sent my heart literally soaring this morning!
I was singing Bon Jovi, I was humming “Born to Run” and every other diddy that came to mind which involved not having my feet on the ground but instead, my head thoroughly resting on the freshly-puffed pillow of cloud nine.
Every day is a new epiphany, if you’re open to it. Today’s was the elation of jogging through the mountains and having a glimpse of what life could be, how freeing. Granted, I was just jogging to get my mail and the newspaper for Tom (I had to throw in a bribe so I could leave). In losing my breath on my run, in numbing my toes, hands, and cheeks with the cold, I think I found my breath. I caught it, rather. Like when a little kid, or a big kid blows you a kiss. Something you insist upon catching and saving for a very long time. We all catch it in a different way, and indeed have the potential to experience a new awakening everyday.
Have you ever had the wind knocked out of you? Or been running around so frantically that you can barely take the time to breath? Perhaps you have experienced that annoying self-inflicted phenomenon where you literally CANNOT inhale deeply enough. While suffocation is fun, and saving people who are suffocating is even more fun, wouldn’t you rather find what it is that gives you breath and life and just keep pursuing that instead?
As my pal Rumi says, “Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.” For us modern folks who have more strict rules nowadays on fire pits, witch burnings, fireworks and hand grenades, just take this simple advice: follow that which brings you breath and life.
I would never argue with my BFF Rumi. Which is why I am watching, waiting, and allowing pieces to slowly fall together for the ultimate dream-weaving of infinite possibilities. All that from a run, people should send packages when I am not home more often.
It was all guns and roses and daffodils this morning, a feeling that stayed with me all day, throughout my afternoon walk, where I lathered up in sunscreen and walked to the beach in my bikini and my swimming floaties. They make the cutest and most modest bathing suits here out of a hat, gloves, snow pants, and no less than seven jackets, hand you a pick axe and send you into the wild. Fantasies of beaches and remote islands aside, the view was of course sight for sore eyes after sight for sore eyes and my blood vessels were loving every second of it. That is until, the light changed and I began to realize I was the only eyes out of all my loved ones experiencing it all right now. Suddenly my 7 jackets are all drenched with tears. I guess that is why I need that grace, for when the light changes. I suppose that is also why I take so many darned pictures.
Argentierean for NOW,
— Emily —