I woke this morning and looked around. Guitar. Messy laundry. Sun shining in through the curtains. Even the dust on the nightstand is yelling at me, being abusive. DUST ME YOU LAZY SAD PERSON. And I had a thought.
This is it. Life.
For years you wonder when you’ll become that better, happier, squeaky clean version of yourself. But the laundry never gets done fast enough. You’re always aging a little, your skin a little more tired than taut. Look at you, always saying you’re dieting and then buying Doritos, eating them in bed, orange stains on white sheets.
Shameful. And yet it’s kinda cute too. Maybe? You hope it’s a little cute.
It’s not. Nobody cares. That’s fine too.
But look at that guitar! The gleaming light of you wants to sing. Or write. Or garden. To make something with your hands, even if it’s just love. Just love! Imagine. No matter the age. No matter the messy house. Let it rest. Go toward the light of you.
I’ll dust. I’ll do my laundry. I don’t advocate for laziness. I advocate for not beating yourself up when the house looks likes a herd of wild guinea pigs came through it. And that’s just it, right? Creatures as small as that messing up your life, scurrying around like assholes (I’m not even talking children, but if you them, then woah).
I’m playing guitar first. I’m singing to the creatures. Fa la la and kumbaya.
And the creatures might not leave. The lazy sad part of you might just be a part of you. Can you accept that?
Accept it or work to change it. Big change doesn’t usually happen in one giant orgasmic easy AHA. It’s more plodding. Drama-less. Like watching a garden grow. Green. Green. TOMATO.
It will happen, if you give it light and water. But it takes time. Drink some water. You’ll feel better.
I’m living this. I checked my work email halfway through writing this. Because my spirit is not all peace and harmony (that would be gross anyway and would repel most of my friends). My spirit is often anxious. It wonders if I’m doing enough. Maybe my boss wrote to me. Did she? Does she need my help? Is there more I can do to prove my worth? Feed me, feed me! Hold on, let me get my cape and sword.
Oh, she didn’t. Okay, back to the page. Put a few more words down.
I’m a green, green garden. Beautiful, still growing.
So are you. What will you do about it?