My vacations, your vacations. Who's vacation is it anyway? I took the week the kids had off and had a long list of to do's. Can you see where I 'm going here? Tuesday I was tired, Thursday I was stressed and Friday, today well I turned sort of what the f*** /zen... and let go.
The whole vacation thing has always perplexed me anyway. I mean, it is supposed to be restful and rejuvenating, and to me that means a good nights sleep, and something that restores my soul. Now, what restores my soul ,interestingly, is simple work of making my surroundings or something beautiful. The garden, painting a room, hanging a picture. Working with my hands and body in the sun and fresh air. If I am inside I want to open the windows. I can go places and see different earth and breathe its air, and collect its things and bring them home. But going some where soulless has lost its lure. The simple work of my dream vacation yields things I can continue to enjoy, an builds something slowly that I treasure. It is not exactly work.
I feel the push to activity for activity sake. It may build a skill but seems strange to me, maybe impractical, because it leaves nothing of value behind for all of its sweat and investment.
I'd rather learn carpentry than snowboarding. I am an alien.
I'll brush up on skiing to fit in, to have something to do with my family. To fit in this leisure class.
But my heart wants to be making something, or growing something, or fixing something.
Blah Blah Blah
