Contentment

Sunday was a gentle day. The Mulligatawny soup I made was delicious and I have buckets of it to eat for next several days. I read Beth’s book, walked often in the trails and at the park and I ate several chocolates. I loved ending the day with All Creatures Great and Small (in spite of really weak directing and writing; could Tristan’s failure have been telescoped even earlier and more obviously?). I had dreams with Callum Woodhouse.  

This morning, I’ll lead my dog walkers through the 707 Park and then I’ll go to the grocery store for the supplies I need to make bread. Henceforth, I’m going to make more bread that I buy.

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It’s not raining this morning. We haven’t had rain for four-to-five days; it’s been a very welcome respite from incessant wetness. I can feel my desire for life outside in the garden growing.

The weather has been weird and wonderful this past season; if the weather doesn’t change through the rest of Winter, we’ll have passed through six months of Spring since last Autumn to reach the Summer of 2021. More and more plants are showing signs of life in my garden.

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I pulled out some drafts of past exercises in creative writing to see if I could find one that might inspire me to work on it. I couldn’t. I can’t muster the energy for writing just as I can’t muster the drive to work in my studio anymore.

I realize that although I absolutely loved the process, I never cared much about the finished product. I worked for two years on my dresses and letters project, but never showed them, and now my disinterest in turning eyes on me or my work is so strong, I can’t marshal the drive to create anything. Instead, I read, and that’s just fine with me.

But in some ways, I miss the joy of it. What’s with that, I ask myself, and I’ve decided that I’ve traded contentment for joy. Contentment is a more passive state; joy for me, is far more active. I reckon the change is a function of aging or another aspect of being post-breakdown Chris.2.

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Today has begun wonderfully: When I rose this morning, without thinking, I started talking to Sheba and my fluency at home with my pets has returned. I know that it may not last, but it’s such a relief to have it back! Plus, having it back reminds me that being mute never lasts. I always get to speak again—not perfectly, but decently. Yay!