Shouting Out

Some days start rough. You’ve gone to bed the night before aching like your run from the flu has tanked just before the finish line, no last minute vitamin or herbal remedy to the rescue, the body seeking solace in a dark room and uninterrupted day sleep. But there are school lunches to be made and the cable is down.

This is a post about communication in its most fundamental form.

Fifth Chakra  Reinforcement - Turquoise Glass Earrings

Fifth Chakra Reinforcement – Turquoise Glass Earrings

Why is the cable down? It is continually problematic – my fifth chakra spinning backwards at the thought of dealing with the cable provider yet again. That means no phone, no Wi-fi, not even the comfort of pajama work when work, whether you feel like it or not, is inevitable. So you’re up. A tentative engagement with the world at best, but movement.

In an unheard of turn of events, the cable company truck arrives five minutes early. The doorbell rings and a young woman – for the first time, as it is always and forever some dude talking a cable hook-up language I do not speak – this girl with a soft demeanor and androgynous uniform steps into my home. She is Anna, and she sees what no cable guy has seen so far, repairing the connection and boosting the signal just like that, no rough stuff, no holes in the wall or dirt on my floor. She is quiet and mercifully effective. Angel of Wireless Signal – she turns to me to speak and, it is a comment on the decor! With her soft gaze, efficiency and observation, she restored not only my ability to communicate with the world, but my desire to do so.

Anna, this post is dedicated to your grace and your aptitude, may your salary be commiserate with both.

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Hanging by a Thread

blog6_minLast night, in direct opposition to my Buddhist directives of finding peace in the mundane, I was cranking out my domestic duties as fast as possible. In the midst of stuffing my washer with a load of laundry, I noticed a suspicious puddle of water on the floor in front of me. Upon further inspection it became evident I was dealing with what I can only call a minor catastrophe. A hot water leak in my foundation running from the bathroom, through the laundry room and coming to rest under the wood floor of my dining room buffet. The earth work alone is enough to warrant selling this place and moving to a monastery.

I went to bed subdued, to say the least. Life seems so tenuous at times – trying to balance private school tuition for a seventh grader, crazy high water bills, a burning desire for an area rug in my living room. Complicated, of course, by a deep sense of mourning for the loss of my Sephora habit.

Hanging by a thread – not just the monthly budget or retail therapy, but all of it, our health, relationships, our very existence on the planet. Lost in these thoughts I looked up and took in the confines of my bedroom. The walls a creamy hue, the artwork abundant and traded for years ago, vintage pieces from furniture markets, all coalescing in a feeling of easy tranquility and comfort.

It occurred to me then, maybe the thread is not a single-ply piece of cotton, maybe it is silk or has the tensile strength of the anchor line in a spider’s web. Maybe in its delicate presence it is capable such strength and elasticity that it outperforms any man made material.

In the moment of testing that strength, not knowing if it will hold or it will snap, we have a choice – to create and appreciate beauty.

It balances our lives. And it is all around us, all the time.