Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Listening For Beauty

All of yesterday and all morning today, snow fell. Big, soft flakes much of the time. Every now and then, the wind would gust, pushing the snow sideways. But now the sun is shining. The snow is melting. I imagine by tomorrow evening all of the snow will be gone. The transience of this weather event is a reminder: keep looking ahead, for what seems insurmountable now will reveal itself as just a small inconvenience in the bigger scheme of things. Or as my mom always used to put it: this, too, shall pass.

I'm trying to keep this in mind given the tension my entire being is feeling right now. I know holding onto the anger is unhealthy. I know I need to use the tension and the anger to walk a more creative path. Only I find this so difficult when my husband is in the same space, which is much of the time since he is and has been unemployed for the last year. I find myself intentionally leaving the room when he enters. I stay at work longer than I need to simply to not have to be here with him. I truly do not know if I can move away from the anger this time. It has seeped deeply, settled into my very core.

Some writing is happening, which helps alleviate some of the tightness gripping my heart space. For quite a while I went through a spell of not finding anything revealing itself to me. I've learned not to force something that doesn't want to be. So I simply listen. Last evening the listening brought me a new idea, and I started to flesh it out. This morning, another idea whispered to me as soon as I sat on the couch. Not having any paper beside me, I grabbed the book I'm currently reading and found a page with lots of clean space. I wrote the words that unveiled themselves to me. Now I have two works I hope to breathe life into.

I have to wonder if Ado is sensing my unease. He comes to me often, placing his paws on my lap and snuggling his head against my chest. Just that. For several minutes. Then he returns to his spot on the couch and settles in. The love he offers me is so sweet and gentle. We took a short walk this morning, and after returning, after hanging his leash near the window overlooking the fruit garden, I heard a Cardinal singing. Through the window, I could see the Cardinal in the forsythia across the street.

1 comment:

sewer from pa said...

I am touched by your entries about your marriage. I don't know you from Adam, but we both are writers who like cycling and much of the same music (according to your description of yourself.) So, with that common ground, let me say: having been surprised by my own divorce (even though it was my idea) at around the age of 50, I am sure that you will get through this time better off. Nobody knows better than you what you need to do to grieve, survive and move on. You go, lady. Big hug.