Time For Myself

My latest project, begun today...

I tired long ago of blog-histrionics about rain drops and solitude. Gah. I'll never linger over another webpage extolling placid moments spent with livestock - the home education movement is rife with quasi-rural wannabe's. Full of pseudo-deep thoughts, these blogs and books are entertaining in a pathetic sort of way. Treat them like you would an episode of The Real New Jersey Housewives.

Never. Tune. In.

Having said all that, you'd be mistaken if, in reading about all the hustle and bustle of life here at the cottage, you thought I never enjoy nature or a quiet moment.

Oh, I do. You have noooooo idea.

See, it is the busy-ness of my life that makes me really, really...really...good at leisure.

But it goes more like this: lots of work, lots of projects, lots of family, lots of friends, lots of people make up my days...and the moments or hours or days of quiet are the hem that keeps me from unraveling.

Not the whole fabric of my life. Not even most of the fabric of my life.

The hem. The quiet moments are just the hem, but without the hem? It falls apart, thread by thread. The quiet moments are just the trim...the lace, the rick-rack, the beautiful gilded braid, but without it, the borders of my time here on earth would not be well defined, much less enchantingly lovely. This is the meaning of solitude. Much like the life of Jesus, quiet alone-ness is meant to comprise a small portion of a life that is mostly spent loving people, busily and actively and (often) painfully.

Without a peopled, busy life, all the quiet and long walks and the flock of Nubian goats and raindrops on roses and "dappled things and skies of couple-color as a brinded cow" (my favorite poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins) - well, its all just so much crap.

The only things we take into eternity are relationships.

Which reminds me of a very well written book on interior design entitled "A Perfectly Kept House is A Sign of a Misspent Life". Such a wonderful book on home design - one that lets the philosophy, that a home is the place where people love and are loved, rule everything...that philosophy should guide design, and take precedence above slavish displays of wealth, or even above showcasing a certain style, like Colonial or Victorian or Arts and Crafts or Mediterranean villa or French country (my fav) or Rustic or Whatever.

I could write a book: A Whole Lot of Days of Long walks and Quiet Are A Sign of a Misspent Life.

Time to myself, "quiet time", walks and dew and dappled things - these are not my life's essence - they are what recharge my spirit, enabling me to get right back into the essence of my life: nurturing people.

Busy. Is. Good.

But this week? Oh, it is me-time all the way, baby.

My beloved is two states north of here, left this past Sunday, and won't be home until Saturday night....late. My youngest son is with him, and they are having a blast, just the two of them.

Me? I have sat in a coffee shop all by myself reading an e-book, gone shopping for five hours all by myself, eaten cake all by myself, watched chick flicks (yes, plural) with my daughter, snuggled my grandson, prayed, cooked, and been inspired, all by myself. And it is only Tuesday.

This week is my own version of "Eat, Pray, Love".

I'm really, really good at quiet-time. Precisely because I don't have much of it.
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