synchopation
Posted on | October 18, 2007 |
I have the day off and I’m gleefully miring my way through an inconceivably long to-do list. I have yet to figure out how to accomplish my every day life and everything else that needs to get done.
The biggest thing I’ve accomplished: completely reorganizing and painting my studio. Last year sometime, in the middle of the winter, under a blanket of depression, I painted my studio a pale blue, which felt like a bad idea almost seconds after the last coat was applied. Without meaning to, I began to use my studio space less and less, until I would go for a week or two without ever entering it.
This affected me on a subconscious level. I felt creatively terrified. Performance anxiety corroded any attempt to splash color across the page or really sink back into a routine of writing. Without a space I felt comfortable in, I resorted to writing at the kitchen table, in the midst of the hubbub of daily life, and routinely sabotaged my own efforts even there, buy skimming through my favorite blogs, or trying to keep up with the voracious demands of my gig over at Parent Dish.
Somehow the entire month of September (and nearly all of October) was swallowed by the murky creature of un-ambition. All summer I was entrenched in the rich sensory beauty of the outdoors; of leisure; good food; good novels. Then fall arrived with the first nip in the air and the hillsides turning orange, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. My syncopation was jagged and blurry; like a scarecrow trying to dance. Somehow with the shift in seasons I stopped doing all the things that I love: running, writing, art, and instead became (maybe necessarily) submerged in the fabric of work.
Headlong there, in the classroom, participating in the daily alchemy of turning eighteen individuals into a working group of learners; time spent watching spiders eat grasshoppers in the terrarium; and writing stories about magical shrinking potions. Time spent tying shoes and counting shells and navigating small sorrows. Time spent feeling nearly exhausted every afternoon; always empty, hungry, anxious.
And then I came home a few days ago to an empty house (Bean and DH were out running errands) and despite feeling hungry and grumpy, I decided to pull on my running shoes and head out in the perfect autumn sunlight for a run.
On the way back, passing a long field that follows the road for a good stretch, a small pony saw me running, and cantered up to the fence and then ran with me. I stopped and petted her tousled mane, and then continued, delighting in the unexpected equine attention. And then I realize: I was no longer either hungry or grumpy. My mood and body had been off kilter because I’ve been so out of rhythm. My soul misses running, it seems. Just as it misses moving through steady sun salutes on my yoga mat on my sunny studio floor.
So in the past few days I feel like I’ve come back into orbit around the quiet fire of my inner self. I’ve started running again, and I want to do it nearly every day. My body needs to move, just as my mind needs the quiet emptiness of one foot falling in front of the other along the gravel road.
So I’ve cleaned my studio and tackled my to-do list, and finally feel like I’m at least leaning towards a place of balance. Not quite there yet, but at least facing the right direction now.
As I write, thousands (really!) of lady bugs have migrated to our house. They are landing on the windows, twirling through the hazy autumn air in their bumbling flight. Do they hibernate? What are they doing here? Some say lady bugs are good luck. I’m content to imagine that they are.
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16 Responses to “synchopation”
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October 18th, 2007 @ 12:25 pm
I always enjoy reading how you capture the changing of the seasons. And, your studio looks absolutely gorgeous now. I’d love to lounge around there with a big golden retriever and a really, really good book. (And a cup of chai).
October 18th, 2007 @ 1:11 pm
Oh you lovely. How do you always manage to capture EXACTLY the mood I’m in? Synchronicity! I sure wish I had a studio space like that. Love it up!!
October 18th, 2007 @ 1:21 pm
Love the color of the walls. LOVE your hardwood floors! I hope this warm, cozy respite provides the inspiration you are looking for.
October 18th, 2007 @ 1:24 pm
I don’t know if you know this poem by James Wright, but I immediately thought of it:
A Blessing
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more, they begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.
October 18th, 2007 @ 1:27 pm
I so resonate with this - trying to tune into the new rhythm of fall, of school. I’m so glad you are finding your place in the spin of things - hopefully I will find it soon as well.
Your studio looks heavenly! I love seeing corner’s of peoples homes, a little glimpse into your everyday. I posted a picture of a corner of my own home a few days ago and instantly felt like I had shared a little secret about myself, my space, what I see every day.
October 18th, 2007 @ 2:48 pm
Ladybugs are in the beetle family and are associated with resurrection and change. Of course, another word for change is metamorphosis — hmmm, like the title of a famous short story. It sounds like your little friends stopped by to help you make these changes. Be sure to thank them for that — we are all connected, after all.
I love your studio — what a blessing it is for you!
October 18th, 2007 @ 3:03 pm
i LOVE LOVE LOVE That color! A lot… I felt incredibly creative looking at your photos. It actually challenged my own lack of inspiration these past weeks/months… perhaps I will paint this weekend as well!
October 18th, 2007 @ 7:17 pm
Rose shared the very same poem your story reminded me of! How wonderful! That poem touched me so much when I first read it that I did two paintings in response. I like the warm color of your studio; I am sure it will be more inviting now. I laughed about the ladybugs - they’re swarming here as well. It’s surreal…
October 18th, 2007 @ 10:27 pm
I am out of town this week and even though I brought along several creative things to do, I haven’t done any of it. It is a nice break, but I am ready for the routine and throwing myself back in it again.
I love your studio. It is so beautiful! It’s simple and homey.
October 18th, 2007 @ 11:14 pm
Oh, your studio looks beautiful. I feel lately as though I have lost all rhythm. After months of cultivating practises, they are falling to pieces around me. But we are moving, and everything is unexpected, so I guess I can give myself some grace for this time. It doesn’t make the limping rhythm any easier, though.
October 19th, 2007 @ 9:48 am
Good for you! Just curious, when do you find time to run? I too like to go every day, but with the change in seasons I can’t figure out if it’s easier to get up early & go when it’s cold & dark or squeeze in 45 minutes after work or before or after dinner… Need to get into an autumn rythm myself.
October 19th, 2007 @ 1:52 pm
your studio is just gorgeous! so warm and inviting. to imagine sharing your home with thousands of ladybugs…how fabulous!
October 20th, 2007 @ 6:08 pm
Wow. Your studio is amazing. Every detail melts into that lusious color and yet rises from it with its own sense of being. Your home reflects the soul and spirit of your lives…it’s inspiring.
I’ve been traveling and the heart, mind and body are in some strange time warp, without solid perspective. I’m sure it will return…reading your words is always part of that restoration process for me.
Thank you.
October 21st, 2007 @ 10:25 am
Your studio is stunning! I love the color, the light, the warmth it exudes. Amazing what color can do for our souls. Thanks for sharing.
October 21st, 2007 @ 2:13 pm
Your warm orange studio will be so inviting on cold dark mornings…
I have a canvas of a similar size with a similarly colored background on the easel in my own studio. Where is yours going? Mine, unfortunately, has become symbolic of a decision I’m stuck on. I can’t decide if I need to finish the painting to make the decision or make the decision so I can finish the painting.
October 22nd, 2007 @ 10:03 am
Oh, I love that sunny autumn color of your room. Wonderful!