Living for yourself

For the last several days, I've been off Facebook. The first day after my departure, I was working hard on my house- installing new hardware in the kitchen, painting, organizing and whatnot. I thought about sharing photos with everyone, showing all the things that I was accomplishing. Then I thought how nice it was to be doing things for myself, for my own satisfaction. I wondered what kind of society we were becoming- all these people who want accolades for everything they've done. Importance measured in the number of likes you receive on your posts and pictures. How valid is it anyway? And is it creating a society where we do things for the approval of others rather than for our own internal pleasure? Strangely I realised today that I had not had any urges to go on Facebook, that I hadn't even really thought about it in a day or two. It's feels good.

In the Garden.

I'm reducing my social networking time in favor of more time in the yard. Time to write and read and enjoy life. Not that I was crazy on the internet, but I am feeling like I need to step back for a while. So, I may resume posting here rather than on Facebook.

These are all in my backyard. Last night. Both dogs love the yard.

Quiet Dining with the Monsters

In the shade of the old brick fireplace
& an unknown about-to-flower tree-bush
Eating arugula and organic Parmesan
Sharing treats with the monsters
Birds chirp here & there, from above
Oatie hunting & sniffing in the bleeding hearts
Bailey snoozing at my feet, content in the shade
The breeze in the trees, whooshing leaves above
An errant horn
Far away cheers from the soccer fields
Solitude I hadn't planned for
I've never dined in my garden before
This will be the new normal

THREE QUIET NIGHTS

It’s been three nights in the house. 

Three Quiet Nights. 

I didn’t realize how much I was missing my alone time. How space and peace regenerates and renews.

Last night, I sat on the front porch with the dogs, a fizzy water, and a block of cheese. Overlooking the park. Reading. Writing. Thinking.

Since May of 2011, I’ve been living with other people. Traveling or roommates, or visiting.

Introverted people need to be alone to regenerate.

Although I’m outgoing, I’m very introverted.

The other day, I played piano from 10PM to midnight. Because I could.

Once again, I have thoughts of art and sewing and writing. I had thought they went away. I had no creative urges for so long, it seemed like they had died.

I have no doors (they are in the garage to be painted and hinges stripped). No window coverings (they are ordered and on their way). Boxes piled into the art/office room and in the basement. My car doesn’t fit into the garage yet.

And yet, it is calming.

Things have gone wrong. (The shower suddenly has no water pressure. I’m not sure why. I will figure it out.)

But I don’t feel overwhelmed.

It feels like home. It feels like me.

It was just what I needed.