Wednesday, August 10

oh dear lord, I have gone twee

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Yes, we are all well acquainted with the oft cited spectre of a woman who lives alone: the slow erosion into societal outcast, harkened by the hordes of feral cats that prowl across her unkempt living room, sending empty tuna cans skittering to accumulate under the sagging sofa, but what about the terrors of white tulle and twinkle lights?

Why has no one warned us of this positively Havishamian possibility?

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Henry: if I play dead, no one can blame me

It started out innocently enough (hmm, on second thought, isn't that the way ALL horror stories begin?)--- I had seven windows and a friend willing to bring me birch branches from her New Hampshire woods.

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Simple right?

Forgo the need for curtain rods-- secure a few branches here and there with a bit of twine and presto-- all that's needed is a bit of sheer on the sides, yes?

And thus, off to Ikea (so very conveniently located near my new home)-- and behold, a pair of white curtains for $4.99-- a PAIR. (Clearly I wasn't the only shopper trying to get my mind around this as there were no fewer than four signs posted about stating, "yes, there are TWO panels in EACH package for $4.99).

I was going for light, breezy, ephemeral-- you know, drowsy fabulist sanctuary.

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Problem is, when you add in the twinkle lights and disco balls that were already in place-- hell if all that's missing from this carnival ride isn't fried dough and a ferris wheel.

But I am tweaking. I'm tweaking. It's a work in progress.

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Hell, what isn't?

My dear, darling Jeanine-- she of the lionhearted courage just posted from the trenches of making huge life changes -- how utterly raw and harrowing it can feel when you are in the middle of the transformation, when nothing has yet settled into place except the fears and insecurities swarming to feast on the open expanse of your vulnerability which hasn't got so much as a smear of sunscreen protection at this fragile stage of the molting process.

I, of course, being the wellspring of all wisdom with regard to moving through life as a cliff diver with alzheimers-- was quick to dash off a consoling email:

Subject line: "but baby, we're all gonna die"

I'm thinking that cheered her up.*

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There was a time in my life when, if "summertime and the living is easy" came on the radio, I was compelled to shout, "like FUCK it is."

Whether it is big transitions or small daily mountains-- life can feel like an endless game of eye-punching with Larry, Curly and Moe. It can. It does. For all of us.

I certainly don't have anything figured out (like I need to tell YOU that, ha) but I am definitely learning some tricks for this current section of road I am navigating.

1. Grounding. Root Chakra. Get out of my head.

2. Re-route the neurons. If I am in my head, I damn well better be shifting the gears and remembering to flow, trust and stay out of my own way. My consciousness is a lazy wench and I have to pretty much constantly make sure she is always expanding and redefining the world as I thought I knew it. This means I am no longer allowed to entertain old friends like fear, anxiety and depression-- when they show up, I gotta close the door in their face.

How do I do that? See #1 above.

Does it work?

I don't know. I feel better. Life can still kick me hard in the gut and I will hurt. I'm just more able to see how much control I have over my response to the gut ache-- how I can simply feel the acute pain in full measure-- and then let it go-- breathe, ground into root chakra-- and move on.

And then, one day, I wake up and damn if there isn't a sexy goddess in a yellow dress singing a whole nother song about summertime.



Bisous, E

P.S. hmm, I am thinking this post should be re-titled, "how much preachiness can you take?" but then, perhaps most of you probably never made it this far since you had to rush to a dark corner to save what was left of your vision after I blinded you with twinkle lights and tulle.

P.P.S. *apparently it did --- yay for preachy friends + email + wild opinions

8 comments:

  1. I absolutely loved your response to Jeanine (she shared on her blog)....I think I will tape that up on my refrigerator and bathroom mirror and anywhere else I will see it....tell fear to take a fucking a hike. Thank you as always for your words of wisdom. And hey your twinkle lights aren't too blinding ;)

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  2. Obviously Jeanine was COMPLETELY cheered up by your email, as per her post, and really, who wouldn't be??

    Also, not TWEE. The birch branches (!) and tulle are so awesome, in the "OMG why didn't I ever think of that category", and adding the twinkle lights? Genius. Interior decorating goddess. The disco ball? Hrm. Hee!

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  3. I discovered the magic of Sparkle lights at Squam last year! I now have them hanging in my studio. I think your room is beautiful!

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  4. and why cannot a drowsy fabulist exist copacetically with the carnies? ;) after all you do seem to spin a fabulous, magical ride there at squam!

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  5. the tulle and the birch branches, very chic especially with a hint of twinkle.

    Bridgemor

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  6. actually I'm kinda digging the preachiness AND the tulle/twinkly light combo.

    smooches,
    Karen

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  7. I haven't read Jeanine's new post yet, but it will be my next stop. I love all of your sermons. So keep them coming...

    As for your twinkling lights and lovely windows? Beautiful. And that dead dog? Needs more kisses! xo

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thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me-- I love that you stopped by and hope something I shared was what you needed today. xo, e