I get on my bike and ride down the canal and meet the lovely Heather Davulcu for breakfast. This is a weekly happening. Or at least we try very hard for it to be.
One we both need and look forward to. Coffee, sketches and ideas are spread across a tiny table in a small town breakfast nook. Heather makes me nervous when she takes out these amazing drawings and paintings to show me as I sip coffee. You would think they were copies. I fear one small slip or tremor with my hand as she lays out her masterpieces.
So this past Monday, I told Heather I was moving slower. Thinking. I wanted to sit on the couch and read. Think about the lessons I learn in the vegetable garden. Think about the tiny stuff. Be still.
I have a ton going on, but I didn't want to talk about that. And Heather was relieved. That I was pausing. Breathing. Prioritizing. Stopping for a bit.
In my work life I am thinking about new card designs, distribution, art shows, my website, openings, shipping orders, prepping materials for large installations, teaching children that trash can be treasure if we use our imagination....
But in the garden, when I turn everything off, I am wondering why I didn't see the second pile of green beans until I went back outside a few minutes later. They were there. But I needed a pause before I saw them.
I needed to step away and come back to find all the other ones. The green beans are wise. I am so grateful for every lesson they teach me.
When I sit quietly this week I am wondering what else is right in front of me that I am looking for and not seeing.
A tube of lipstick makes me ask a similar question.
I love lipstick. But all lipstick is not equal. Most you simply push down the cap and close.
I have this one tube of lipstick I love, but when I go to close it, it rarely closes. I push and I push. Once in a while I push on it so hard it closes.
I am driving with my husband this week. I hand him the lipstick as I navigate and ask him to please close it. He hands it back closed in one second.
This lipstick has a top that screws in place. I never noticed this because I never looked. I pushed so hard that sometimes it actually clicked close.
My sweet husband smiles at me. We giggle. But there is a pattern here.
I always tell my children when something is really hard, take a closer look. Wise woman.
I am doing that now. Asking myself what is really hard that doesn't have to be? And what am I not seeing that I am looking for that is right in front of me?
Some things I know for sure this week.
I will do hard work if I can have a chocolate covered caramel sprinkled with sea salt right after.
And the beach is always calling me.
I dropped off art at a favorite shop in Spring Lake, NJ and made time for lunch and a book under a blanket. Easy.
Not hard. No pushing.
So next week, another breakfast with Heather. More time being still, more questions and more answers.
**How about you? Am I the only one pushing down hard on screw caps? What are you not seeing? What is hard that just doesn't have to be?