October 12th, a cool sunny and breezy day at 7℃. I’m a happy camper, snug as a bug in the sunroom. It’s toasty warm here even on a cold day if the sun is out. Cutting down the spruce trees made a lot of difference. It created an ideal south facing space for a greenhouse. We didn’t realize how much shade and cool the trees provided until they were gone. Then the yard and the sunroom warmed and it up. In the heat of summer I had to keep the sunroom blinds closed for most of the day. It was still well lit as the 2 topmost windows had no blinds.
I’m a lover of light and space. Having these spaces and the sun today, I’m feeling tres mellow. It’s what happy feels like to me. Such a good sensation. I shall relish this moment and remember what happy feels like. I don’t always have it. Happy is not about having stuff or status because my stuff and status does not fluctuate while my happiness quotient does. So what does that mean?
They say that eyes are windows to the soul. It’s how the light gets in. I have been worried about losing the light for as long as I can remember. I am very near sighted and had thick, thick glasses in childhood. Not only was I worried about the light but being unsightly as well. Thank God for high index and contact lenses and inplants. Now my vision is better than ever.
I did not know in my youth that short vision can be a good thing. In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott talks about writing as much as you can see through a one-inch picture frame, taking one-inch bites at a time. And E. L. Doctorow said writing a novel is like driving a car at night. “You can only see as far as your headlights. You can make the whole trip that way.”
I can see the wisdom in that – staying in the present, looking ahead to see what lies within the range of your headlights. You can live your whole life like that. So I take a deep breath and take a step ahead. Then another, walking in the path lit by the light.
I could see a light in the distance but I wasn’t sure if I could make it that far. Should I try anyways, not knowing? Should I or shouldn’t I? The tug of war begins. I am worn out before the journey begins.
The light is waning. I am losing resolve. My ugly sister whispers in my ear. Loser, you can’t do it! I do not shush her. I let the words sink in. Is it true that I can’t do it? Would that make me a loser? I feel anger rising up towards her, towards myself.
I breathe. The anger is gone and so is the hesitation. I take one step forward, remembering what my great, great, great forefather said. A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. The light brightens with each step I take. It beckons me forth. I am getting closer and closer. I realize then that the light is a guide and not the end. Success lies in trying and beginning.
It is not quite Friday but close enough for Friday Fictioneers. We’re headed by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple. We tell stories of 100 words or so – inspired from a photo prompt. Anyone can join in, if you’re so inclined. Here’s my 100 words this week.
She was momentarily blinded by the light. In that moment, a memory of another light flashed through her mind.
She was six years old again. Her mother was shaking her.
“Wake up, May! Wake up!”
She opened her eyes. A naked lightbulb dangled from the ceiling, its light blinding. May stared in awe and silence. She did not utter any words or questions but did as she was told.
They took a taxi from the hotel to the station and boarded the train to Hong Kong. She will always remember that day when she first saw electricity and her father.
I woke up this morning and it was still -3 C. I opened my eyes and the sun was shining through the window. I got out of bed and found Sheba laying in a pool of sunlight, so content with herself.
The dining room table was a feast of green, full of bedding plants coming in for the night. It was a great way to greet the day – sunlight, greens and a happy dog.
The light danced off the walls, highlighting and casting shadows, reminding me of life – light and shadows, good and bad, the yin and the yang. And I moved and flowed through my morning qigong routine.
In this third day of Lent, I truly feel as if I have been wandering and struggling in the desert. My body hurts from yesterday’s snow shoveling. Every muscle ache, every limb heavy and wooden. Even my mind is numb.
But it is all good. I am at peace. My heart is not struggling. My mind is not thinking. It is not judging. I accept people as they are. I do not know what is in their hearts. Sometimes I do not know what is in my own. But I have this light inside that tells me if I live true to my values, true to my words, I cannot be harmed by anyone nor be touched by evil.
I will follow this little light of mine. And I will let it shine.