Way back on March 17th (that seems like ages ago, doesn't it?) I sewed some pretty paper onto a soft covered notebook and dubbed it "STAYING HOME". Each page documents a day. The date, the day of the week, the weather, meals, conference calls, snail mail written and received, packages delivered, work done outside, stitches taken (knit, sewn), garden/hoop house notes...they are all recorded here. It's a bit like a Victorian lady's book of days.
(Have you read The Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth? My copy has a hand written note in the front, "Karen Lowry May 27, 1977" And a rubber stamped "Wordsworth's Cottage, Grasmere". I purchased the book while studying "off campus" as a student at Earlham College. I took a class on the romantic poets which was capped off with a long weekend in the Lake District, rambling the lanes of the poets. Best memories ever. Please excuse my digression).
Oddly, sometimes Batman and I get to the evening, sit down to write in the notebook's pages, and we can barely remember what we did that day. We call it suspended animation. Perhaps you are feeling it too. A weird sort of wandering through a day. Accomplishing things, yes, but perhaps not with the same sense of focus we usually have.
Last night, my book club had scheduled a Zoom meeting. Since April is National Poetry Month, we had agreed to bring a poem to the meeting to share with the group. I loved the idea. But the closer it got to the time to sign in, the more uncomfortable I became. I begged off, via a last minute email. I felt a bit guilty, but I just couldn't show up. During a phone call later, with two friends from our group, I realized I had known that poetry would make me feel vulnerable and sad. Their kindness just opened the way for me to get in touch with all the emotions I've been "managing". Holy smokes, friends, it's a lot, isn't it?
Most mornings, I start my day with a mug of tea and some hand work. (First I have to feed Wilma and Cora). I try to sink into the slow stitching as a sort of mediation as I watch the early morning light drape across our landscape. I do so wish you could join me. We could sit in silence for a bit and then we could brew a second cup of tea and talk about the day ahead, and offer one another the shelter of friendship.
xo
(love your comments, friends. thank you.)
A lovely post Karen. I like the idea of a staying home book. As much as I want to do crafty/arty things right now I don't seem to be able to. My days are busy with making sure we have enough food supplies and digging over the garden. I hardly have time to stop and think. Maybe I am doing this subconsciously so I don't have to face up to what is really going on. Take care of yourself in your lovely sanctuary. x
ReplyDeleteLove your book. How did you sew paper onto it? Thank you for your posts. Really look forward to them.
ReplyDeleteReading your posts reminds me to stop holding my breath. To breathe with intention. To listen to my heartbeats, to the Earth as she turns. More than ever to be in the now. This now.
ReplyDeleteTo recognize the divine that is within.