“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

Noticing and appreciating the mess in life

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Right now, a stack of sheets and towels that were left behind from our weekend camping trip sit, untouched, on a chair in our master bedroom, evidence of both our tiredness and a serious lesson learned.

Right now, my clothes — worn, re-worn, and worn again — are tossed on the denim blue and white glider I used to rock the girls in when they were babies, the only tangible proof of those amazing, difficult, sleepless early months I cannot dare to part with despite how the chair isn’t used anymore for anything more than an extended closet for my messy self.

Right now, the fan wobbles and oscillates on medium speed, giving me the the dull white noise that lulls me to sleep at night. I wonder how I sleep without it in the winter but absolutely refuse to even consider it in the summer.

Right now, a corner of our room is so full of “let’s get rid of this stuff” clutter, it’s now blocking our way to our bedroom sink. Neither of us has the energy to deal with it all right now. It’s boxes of old files, old CDs from our younger days and old books — again, all reminders of the people we used to be and not the ones we are now. We’re hesitant to let go and yet eager to move on.

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Right now, books on parenting, awake living, and writing pile up on my bedside table wanting me to read them but all I choose is an old Barbara Kingsolver book — a sure thing — called “Prodigal Summer,” the perfect summer read for my outdoor’s heart that has only selected books this summer with a nature theme as if I cannot get enough sunshine, tree hugging and wild exploring on my own, I must absorb it all day, every day — even in my mind.

Right now, stacks of half-filled notebooks and half-empty pink and blue pens sit, waiting for me to pick them up and write, again. Anytime. About anything. But, I always choose the black pen when I’m serious and I always choose the legal pad. Always. And I think about how I need to write more. I need the words to fling at the page and make sense of this world around me right now. I need to write to feel better. I need to rise early and write it all down before I forget a single moment of this life.

Right now, a meditation cushion sits on the edge of the earth near my side of the bed, fully aware that it hasn’t seen the weight of my problems in far, far too long. Fully aware that its presence looms each night as I make my way to surrender to sleep, finally. Fully aware that if I would just sit and rest things would be easier, I would find more clarity.

Maybe tomorrow, I think.

Maybe tomorrow.

For all of it.

How about you? What’s the view from the room you sit in right now?

This post was written just for the Just Write link up at The Extraordinary Ordinary and it was written just for fun. Though, it’s part of a new series of posts I will be writing called Awake at Home.

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