Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale.
Hans Christian Andersen
I’ve never been much of a collector. I used to envy the way people would have a fervor for something that would never wane. I tried, I saved wheat pennies when I was little (until I lost them), pictures from magazines in my teens, oh, and I stashed away slights to add to the chip on my shoulder in 20s like it was my job. When Sean and I got married I took a shine to blankets and mugs.
Lately I’ve been collecting strands of joy and courage, sometimes it’s a quote from a hundred year ago, other times it’s the idea of bunking tradition because I saw a photograph of someone wearing something intended to spur her own pleasure, no one else’s.
I’ve stopped feeling like I necessarily need to apologize for what makes me happy, or that I have to follow a linear path, professionally or personally. I can change my mind, apologize, burn a bridge.
Something I’ve been loving comes from Instagram. It’s the account of Alison Malee. I don’t know that I interpret her words in the way she intends, this one for example:
What if it’s not a lover? What if ‘you’ is self? I love the idea of finding myself again and again, despite the ways routine or responsibility might claw and weigh me down, there I am. There you are.
I’m also gathering strands from the girls. I won’t pretend that everything is easy, but when I listen or when I am still, or when time hiccups and things align in impossibly harmonious ways, they give me arm loads of wisdom and permission to be happy, wise, or just feel glowy.
I’m looking to the sky. The reliability of that massive canvas, making my worries feel small, my spirit feel whole, or filling me with the idea that I’ve got this day—mine, to do whatever I want with it.
Surprisingly I am also finding things within myself, like the thrum of a different rhythm. Maybe I drop everything and sit by the fire or I let myself be late because I want to draw a thick line of black across my lid before putting on mascara. Sweep the girls off for a coffee date, press my lips to Sean’s ear and whisper that I love him until his shoulders spike, he chuckles, and turns to me.
It may not last forever, but for right now it feels really good to give myself the go ahead to clutch to my heart the things that make me smile.
How about you? What makes you look twice lately?
I love this. The big canvas of the sky always makes me inhale, exhale, remember how small I am, how big this world is, and reassures me in some kind of deep way I can’t quite articulate. I love the way you remind me that joy is all around and can take tiny, tiny, unforseen shapes. xox
Yes, whenever you or Kristen post a sky photo my shoulders drop.
I finished reading GIFT FROM THE SEA last night and there was a particular passage that reminded me of you (too long to include here) but I will share it with you one day soon. In fact, a lot of the book reminded me of some of the things, like this post, that you touch upon in your writing. I’m glad you’re smiling.
I do hope we sit down face to face one day soon.
Your writing often feels like you’ve taken an a deep, long inhale and then the post is an exhale of astute observation and honesty. It’s exactly what they mean, I think, by something being a “breath of fresh air.” I loved this.
That’ just about the most wonderful comment I have ever received. Thank you, Nina!
Amanda, what an incredible human being you are, you always were and I smile to myself when, from time to time, I remember knowing you.
Opps… didn’t mean to be Anonymous, it’s Jocelyn, an old friend of your mom’s. I still have that picture of you at the typewriter that you gave me.