If your 9 year old generally takes showers with a running commentary of the day, the future, the moment... If she normally sings songs and tells stories while showering with such vigor she can be heard all through the house... If for some reason, all of that ceases to be, and there is an unexplained silence... my 'learned the hard way' parenting advice to you would be... check on her!! Or else you may be digging out the gigantic beach towels and locating the perfect sun beam for the freshly showered pooch to lounge in.
I am seeking a little validation here. Please tell me I am not the only mom walking around with dishes in her purse. For some reason the sight of this really got my attention. A reminder to take a step back, as life's been a little too hectic for my comfort lately. I can't even tell you if this mug is clean or not, but I can tell you it does not belong to me. Nope, I lifted it from the kitchen at Emily's school. I have since returned it, clean, but for days it clunked around in my bag, mingling with life's other essentials. Maybe that's what really gets me about this image. That along with a bit of cash, cell phone, journal, ipod and glittery scarves (yes, both essentials), along with these everyday items was this mug, ready and available at a moments notice to be filled with hot, steaming, caffeinated bliss. That, my friends, is the problem. Keep me stimulated, keep me doped, keep me from feeling the exhaustion that pervades my life right now.
So you might think, hmmm, Heather, yoga teacher, what gives with the intravenously fed caffeine? And I would tell you, that is life, that is yoga. Yoga is a metaphor for life, when energy shifts in life, expect it to shift in practice. The difference being that for a yogi, the process of self-observation is a little different. Yoga teaches us to notice the layers of a story. To sit with energy and chaos, observe, place no judgment, receive wisdom, allow. This isn't just a dish that needed to be returned. This Java filled mug has served as an artificial life line for weeks now. I miss having licorice tea in the morning... I miss our old rhythm... but the new rhythm that lies on the horizon, is finally in sight... looking pretty sweet and funky, and I'm ready to live it.
Just a little corner of our home. For 108 years this door has welcomed folks to stay a while, and warmly bid them farewell. That just gets me every time I think of it. Friends and family, coming and going. The voices, clothing over the years, covered dishes brought to share, maybe a pie, a layer cake. This door, a connection between us, and them.
A local historian is currently researching the genealogy of our home, as it will be open to the public for the annual Victorian Home Tour in our town this June. (our's is a bungalow, they show this style as well, though the tour is mostly Victorian) We are excited to learn more about this house, and I will share any juicy tid bits here with you as they become available.
I knew I was home the very moment I laid eyes on this door, and I never tire of, or take for granted, being greeted by it's beauty each time I return home.