I was wrong when I said taking care of a baby is easy as long as you don’t have to do anything else. Or maybe not, as the trouble is there is always something else to do. Like take a shower, or drink your coffee, or start supper. Or worry about a planning commission meeting that is dividing friends and family and making you cry, and decide that public service may not be for you-- and trying to read the packet again to figure out what it all really means, only it is not a packet at all, but a file on your computer, and paper is easier to shuffle while holding a baby than a laptop.
It's not that caring for babies is difficult, that's easy. It's the doing of anything else that's the hard part. Getting dressed for instance. (James and I are still in are pajamas at eight, even though we have been up since six, and his mother has been gone an hour. His father is still at a conference in Portland.) Taking a walk is easy once we are actually moving-- but the prep time can be stressful.
"While I know myself as a creation of God, I am also obliged to realize and remember that everyone else and everything else are also God's creation."-- Maya Angelou
The thing about a play, about rocking a baby, about the toast at her wedding 30 years later, about the Northern lights over Mt. Ripinsky following the cast party-- truly about this one wonderful life we have--- is that once it's done it's gone. Yet thanks to our dependence on one and other-- thanks to the relationships we make-- something of ourselves or the thing we created together continues on. That's one lesson dramatic art teaches better than just about anything else, isn't it?
“What I want is so simple I almost can't say it: elementary kindness.”
--Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
Join me for a post swim cocktail? Kate Mundy, my alter-ego in "Dancing at Lughnasa" would no doubt approve of a tablespoon of cod liver oil washed down with a pint of cider, water, and a vitamin C packet. This why when everyone else laughs when Kate pulls out the cod liver oil and says " your far too pale" and " it's because you take no exercise," I am a wee bit puzzled...
"There are random moments-- tossing a salad, coming up the driveway to the house, ironing the seams flat on a quilt square, standing at the kitchen window looking out at the delphiniums, hearing a burst of laughter from the children's rooms-- when I feel a wavelike rush of joy. This is my true religion: arbitrary moments of nearly painful happiness for a life I feel privileged to lead." -- Elizabeth Berg, The Art of Mending
These Chilkat mornings are slaying me. They begin all foggy and still, and then the clouds lift and everything swirls all white and blue and green. You'd think a person would be used to it when you see it everyday, but that's not true. The neighbors and the dog walkers were all equally astounded this morning. I even think the dogs were--