Paper Mandala approx 6" by 6"
Today is a passive/aggressive kind of day. Oh, it is beautiful outside. The sun is shinning, the temp. is just about perfect and the birds are cheerfully pairing off. But sadly, I am feeling quite grumpy.
I think I want to yell at someone. No one in particular, just venting my frustrations. I won't, of course, but I do feel like it.
Why am I grumpy? you ask. Well, I have been disabled for over two years now and that means I have spent the better part of that time in bed, not able to get up to do much of anything. The first year was scary and boring, very boring (and very scary). The second year was better. I got into the Zen of being 'in the Now'. It was pretty cool.
But just now I am frustrated, because there are things that need to be done. Housecleaning, for instance. Getting my artwork together to take to a store to see if it can be sold. Taking pictures of my work so it can be sold in my Etsy store. But alas, I cannot do much of any of these things. I am too exhausted and hurt too much to move.
So I am grumpy.
One on-line support group that I visit says that folks who become Chronically ill are addicted to who they used to be. I imagine that the same is true for folks as they grow older, too. In any case, it is certainly true for me. I used to be highly self-sufficient. I could do just about anything. I made bookshelves and tables, even a box sofa. I helped my then-husband plumb a house for water and put in all new electrical lines. I could teach a roomful of kids and not turn a hair when they acted up. I could preach and hold hundreds of people enthralled. (I'm a very good storyteller)
But nowadays I just lie in my bed, lucky if I can do a little art.
The young orange cat comes over to me and lies down on my chest. She is purring loudly and I can barely hear the birds outside. She reminds me that there is one thing I can still do and no one can stop me.
I can still love.
I can still love, and so can most folks, no matter their situation. And loving, learning to love is what it's all about, isn't it?
When I die, no one is going to remember that I could plumb a house, or wire it. No one will care that I build enough bookshelves for over a million books. Frankly, no one will care that I did art or sang songs. But some few will remember that I soothed their fears and held then. Some few will remember that I made them laugh. And some will even remember that I accepted them for who they were, without reservation.
I honestly think the lesson I came here to learn this time is to learn how to love.
My cat bursts into a fresh bout of purr and reminds me that I have the best teachers in the world: He and all the others like her, my cats and dogs, my kids -- they teach me to love. I am blessed and I would do well to remember that.
I don't know how the housework will get done. I don't know how I will get my artwork together and looking professional. It may not happen. But still, with all the animals that have been in my life, all the good people I have been fortunate to know, I am blessed and I would do well to remember that.