It Takes a Blogging Village

Little Village, 15 x 25", now on Etsy.

Thanks so much to those of you who commented on my last post or sent an email. All of your responses made me feel hugely, terrifically better. The suggestions to wallow in it as long as necessary were taken seriously. But, strangely enough, I suddenly felt better. I didn’t wallow for long. Perhaps a relapse lies ahead. Or its crouching in the bushes.

Instead of shaking my fist in the air at the new year, or giving it the (middle) finger, I decided to accept that it had arrived and I had better let it on in.

This New Year thing is just so not me.

I wait until January 4th to do anything about it. Most folks seemed so excited about the new year on December 26th. The rest got excited about it on the 31th or Jan 1st. Me. No. Actually, I didn’t think the New Year excitement was going to happen at all.

To put it bluntly, I was in a shitty mood until the 4th. I pretended the new year had not come at all.

It reminds me of the way I did things as a kid. And, frankly, still do.

I don’t plan. I don’t make lists. I don’t do much in the way of practice. I am haphazard.

I do most of my serious thinking during those brief restroom stops during the day. I certainly don’t make time to meditate or think during the day. So those little moments come in handy. I was just thinking of the first time I dove into a pool.

I was a kid of some age. Let’s say nine. I had never learned to dive. I really didn’t know how to swim. Moving from point A to point B in a pool of water was possible for me, but I never learned those swimming strokes. One day at the pool with my family, it was announced that there would be swimming races. My father announced that I would be racing. I watched the first race. I immediately realized that diving into the pool would be required at the beginning of the race. I announced to my father that I would not race because I could not dive. I was informed that I would race and I could enter the pool any way I wished. Jumping in was not an option as I was deathly afraid of looking like an idiot. The next race was for me. The whistle blew and I hurled myself in head first. A dive of some sort. I floundered across the pool like a deranged salmon. But I did manage to dive and complete the race. I came in last, of course. My father was impressed that I dove and he announced I was to race again. I dove, I floundered, I came in last.

This is how I still live my life. Avoid doing things. When it becomes necessary to do something, don’t bother to learn correct method. Dive in. Flounder. Come in last.

Apparently, that was last year’s method. And it looks as if 2010 is off to the same start. I dove in a few days late. Now its time to flounder. Perhaps I will learn a few lessons this year. Could be that I learned a few lessons last year and just don’t know it yet. I’ll be able to put that knowledge to good use when the need arises.

Or did I actually dive in yet? Perhaps I’m just hanging along the side of the pool like a middle-aged lady with a bouffant. Only the future will tell. (I really don't like getting my hair wet.)