It's Sunday morning, and you might not know this about me...but Sunday is my favorite day. I don't think it's a God thing, although I am a person of faith. It's more about how I translate the world on Sundays. Feels quiet, open, ready to be any kind of day at all. The weekdays are work days. Saturday always feels like a fun day because it is the first day off and it has another following it! But, Sunday is like a pause and that breath that I imagine Sunday being feels like endless possibility for rest, or laundry or a visit, matinee, long walk, play with kitties, gardening, reading, writing, whatever. It's just a great day to me and pretty much always has been.
I'm juggling all these new thoughts lately about who I am, could be, might become. My agenda is about self-confidence and for now that is really exciting. Because it's about allowing everything...even the bad stuff. I see that down the road, there will be curtailing, making a plan to exorcise some of the unnecessary behavior...but right now, it's just about acknowledging. Almost like a nod to self and I love it...because basically I have never done it before. Or not in this fashion that feels free and supportive.
Last week was my mama's birthday. I haven't spoken to her in 11 years. I passed by the day barely realizing that it belonged to her. I do hope that her life is good. I do want her to be happy and healthy and loved. I just have my own soul at heart. And I love her where she is, and never want her closer. She placed some horrors inside of me that I can't seem to shake. But, I suspect that she was always ill, and what she put in me was what she had to purge of her own. I know she did the best that she could, because I think we all do.
There's another thing you can do on Sunday...reflect. Now, I think I'll get active! Time to throw the dog bed in the washer. Enjoy your Sunday!
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Small revelations of the sea's mysteries.
Scene from dog walking....
I guess it's about life on a dirt road, where things get dusty sometimes, pot holes develop randomly, trees hug the banks, leaves carpet the shoulders and things move a little slower.
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7 comments:
oh girl!, for me sunday is a bad day, plus the rain and the grey day, the could, but betewen of this things i like keep warm inside, may a draw a litlle, or do samething to put my headr in other place...hte river miss my eyes, may be tomorrow i will be there.
Ours parents are just that, parent, you choose what to feel about it, its so simple, for me take years, asume for you it all think great girl! hope you understand me, i writte like a monkey!
Paola,
I understood completely. Thanks for writing! Your drawings are so gorgeous. They convey beautiful ideas and thoughts.
I need to figure out how to have a Sunday; working weekends makes the days off seem not quite as special as they should be! Thanks for the peek at your lovely way of looking at things.
Leslie,
You are going to have to re-name a day. I have to do that once the season gets started. Make a Sunday on Tuesday or Wednesday. Good luck with that!
Sundays are my blah day....never liked them and still don't. Particularly dislike Sunday nights.
Just because someone does their best....doesn't mean that best is what is best for you. (if that makes sense)
Wow..compelling.
I work a lot of Sundays, so Sunday hasn't had a special meaning for me for a long long time. In school, there was always an existential dread to Sunday, because you're running out of time....Monday is coming. I still have a inner twinge that dates from elementary school when I hear the opening theme to "M.A.S.H", because that signalled I had to go to bed.
Bill James, the baseball historian, once wrote that we should treat the failings of people in the past with compassion, just as we hope that future generations will treat ours with compassion.
I've been a parent since 1996, and I still don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
Obsess...sorry, it's not your day then. I think I am kinda odd on this, especially after reading everyone else's post. I do agree that sometimes our best isn't someone else's, and I am trying to realize at this point in my life that I deserved to be loved when I wasn't. That, I have found, is a long journey.
Michael...I have thought as an adult that I think being a parent means ready to accept your worst nightmare. For example, my mom was the cheerleader, beauty queen, many boyfriends, beautiful and petite. I am bookish, shy, you could not PAY me to be a cheerleader, I think I'm average looking at best, and I am a big girl, not a tiny one. I was my mom's worst nightmare, and she hated me every time she looked at me. I think parenting is about saying that you are bringing a human into the world, and that person may be NOTHING in the world like you at all. But, you chose them. I never caused her trouble, I just wasn't what she wanted. YOu sound too wise to be a bad parent, I'm sure you're doing a great job at it.
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