Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom. -Marcel Proust
Saturday, 17 November 2012
Just me. Doing things. I've chosen low hanging fruit -- the most crucial of my personal beauty needs to address first... hair and eyebrows and feet. Doesn't take much to recenter me. Or make me feel the gentle wave of a perspective re-jigger.
Yes. taking care of myself feels vital. Small gestures of pampering feel miraculous. The simple act of walking alone down the street feels freeing and light. My brain synapses are re-aligning. Oh yes. I am still here.
Makes me feel hope for more time. To write. Read. Think. Plan. Want. Dream. Sleep. Miss. Remember.
And the small time loosens the vice-grip of managing and shuffling and carrying and feeding. Keeping hunger, sleep and mood regulation all in balance for 3 people.
Yes. There is a life inside of me still living.
Even when all eyes are used to pointing down.
Posted by charming gardener at 12:29
Labels: being human, hope, mothering, new look
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