i woke up this morning without the alarm, thinking about morning-time plans.
got dressed right away and called desiree and bundled myself up and we biked down to the farmer's market.
when we got there it was still chilly but the sunshine was aiming itself down the aisles of the market, it was impossible to see anything. Just crowds of vegetables and neighbours out in the brisk morning sunshine, indistinguishable.
i love the market and its growing, i love running into people i know, i love that there is always someone with an instrument and someone else with a petition. It is great to see art and goodness in community space, it fills me with resolve, i sign and donate.
i was talking to desiree, in between bites of maple sugar, about how it is days like this that make me take pleasure in my grownuphood, sure, it was pure sugar for breakfast but damn it, i am the boss of me. I love eating the sweet insides of trees, once in awhile. How lucky am i.
we saw jeannine who was at the market to redistribute some kittens, poor skye was so sad because his favourite kitten, indiana jones, had found a permanent home elsewhere. I remember that kind of hurt. Doing the right thing is hard sometimes and i can't imagine being the kind of grownup who has to deprive a child of a kitten. I think the lesson is in appreciating the full-grown cats in your home already. But, if only little boys could be this sweet forever.
it was so lovely out that des and i went to art in the park, drank some coffee, looked at paintings. Talked to jeff some more about making posters for halloween. My heart is in that studio with the letterpress. He said he expects to see me and that is generous. I think that my deepest desire - to touch all that typeface, to warm up ink - is entirely palpable.
someone had set up a booth where we were encouraged to paint pretty pictures, wishes, dreams, on little scraps of fabric that got pinned up as one enormous prayer-flag. Des made one about her little one, (very much with us on this trip, like many others, of course) and i wrote up some of my favourite spinoza words, applicable in every good things post: "by reality and perfection i mean the same thing."
came home and tidied up some cider and sprouts and bread. Got in touch with kerri and had more coffee, talked about jobs and school and dudes. She is lovely and it is lovely to see her, always. She is one of the best people i know of and is becoming, imperceptibly, the person she wants to be... It is like watching flowers opening or seeing the stars come out. And she is cuter than anything i can tell you about, including a kitten.
sat in my rearranged living room and thought about how lucky i am to be in my apartment, with furniture, with nice decorations, with books, with the cat. Looked at the wall of postcards from people who love me from elsewhere. Looked at the wall where i started nailing needlework; doilies and handkerchiefs, and thought of the other unthanked women who make beauty with their hands and pass it on anonymously. Walls full of art. Bed full of pillows. Fridge with food in it. Felt lucky to the point of tears, everything i need is here and beautiful. I mean, perhaps the things i need are a little bit funny, or the things that are beautiful... The other day, putting away some groceries, i put this jar of tahini on my bookshelf rather than in the cupboard, something about the label is really beautiful to look at. I suppose once i get that hummus made it will grin at me from the fridge, but in the meantime, it can serve this purpose.
read that damn oprah opiate magazine and fought with the cat for my attention. She wants too much to crawl in my lap and purr. These are the only luxuries that my life needs. I lit some candles, it smells like vanilla. Oprah advises that you try standing on the balls of your feet during intense moments, it will connect you with the earth. Oprah recommends outfits that would be a thousand dollars to buy. You take what you need and you leave everything behind. I am done with this issue, who would like to read it?
now i am going through a book i bought at the thrift store cutting up things i love and sticking them up around my house. Perhaps it will be lacking in completeness but there is compassion in fragments.
i got an email from my love from amsterdam, he said that paris was fun but there was no free internet which is why i hadn't heard from him yesterday. He says, "i have to keep this short, i am standing in the street right now". Whosoever emails you streetside in amsterdam? thank goodness for this time to reflect, to read, to snuggle, to eat, to see friends, thank you again to thoughtful men in faraway places. I am homesick for the part of my home that i sent along with him. There are about twelve days to go which means today is halfway through. I am fine and i love knowing about that. I can't wait until we can talk for longer than what a middle-of-the-street email affords.
today, celebrate something, okay? there is something, i promise.
xo,
iris
ps: "compassion grows best, it appears, in the soft spots beneath quiet surrender." - elizabeth gilbert about "what she knows for sure".
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