The Gardens - In the Beginning

Saturday, December 12, 2015

The Twelfth of Christmas

Although the day is warm, it is cloudy and dreary.  I find myself with no incentive to work out in the yard.  I think I will focus on making my studio a pleasant place to work in.  I would like to start creating.  Of course, every bit of the yard is a creation, but a difficult task staying within our means to keep creating.  I am making it a stipulation to myself that I must spend warm weather non-work time outside, perhaps breakfast weekend mornings on the back deck.  I have a desire to be more play and less work.

One thousand four hundred and forty minutes in the day, and I chose the minute a small hawk swooped in to land on a bare branch of the dead sapphire berry bush, to look out my window. Perched but a moment, he dropped to the ground and disappeared into the monstrous grey owl juniper. Perhaps this was his dinner a bit earlier, perhaps not.  A rough life for all when the world is full of shadows of things that think you are so delectable.

Divorcing myself from this computer has become a monumental task to follow through with.  The catalog of all things needed or not needed but desired; keeps me mesmerized hour upon hour, day upon day, month upon month.  Where is that final necessity or craving? Always a perpetual need to fix, improve or add.  No satisfaction with what is.  I'm a surferholic of the internet, a zombie of the web world, a finder of anything if I just have a bit more time than the day holds. Prioritizing is a bitch because it takes perseverance and an insight into what I really need in my life to be at peace with myself.  I'm working at it.



Our greatest weakness
lies in giving up.
The most certain way to succeed
is always to try
just one more time.
Thomas A. Edison




Thirteen days until Christmas, that holiday that has my name written all over it, and I haven't done anything Christmas.  I need to change that immediately.






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