Today I woke up determined to set myself in a peaceful, creative space. I read the last pages of Heatherash Amara, a book my sister left me, then picked up Maya Angelou. I did some minor house cleaning, got to the produce store early enough to beat the Sunday crowd, and shut the door to my own sanctuary before preachers laid their sermons to rest. I was determined to have a peace-filled, creative Shala-day... to hear my breath, to map out my thoughts, sit still in my pain, and try to let another piece of me free up.
I tried.
(Some days despite our best efforts we can't quite hit the bar.)
I tried today. I paced (my signature "I'm thinking" move), I prayed, I ate, I read, I paced some more, and only got more frustrated, more critical, and after completely destroying two paintings ("like f*%Q it all") and despite all the positive self-talk that I neurotically imposed on myself, I had to lay it all down to rest. I didn't give up--I just laid it down for now.
I sat on the sofa in my frustration, looking at life like it was just an empty, f*Q'ed-up canvas itself.
Exhale.
I spoke to my only living grandmother the other day and her words reminded me of how she, in so many ways, has branded my heart forever, eg. "don't get too down now... you're gonna be alright." You know how grandmother's just have a certain ring to their words? Well, my grandmother does, especially with her mild-southern draw. My sister Jessie and I can't stop laughing when we talk about how she answers the phone, "yeL-Low." She said it with a period--like, "yea I'm here...everyday...talk to me". It doesn't matter what she's talking about, she speaks to you like she's singing a hymn just in simple conversation. My grandma hears me; everything I say, even if I'm not exactly saying anything at all.
I hope you're grandma is like her.
I bring her up because I do struggle--been an uphill battle for a very long time, but when I hear almost 90 years worth of pain whispering through a phone, "don't get too down now... you're gonna be alright" I can't shake it. All I could sing back was "grandma you're a lot stronger than me…I appreciate you”.
Today, if nothing else, I paused the negative tapes and reminded myself what I DID do. I walked around my apartment: I did dishes while listening to music, I ate breakfast while finishing a book, I cleaned my bathroom, I made a list, talked to my mama, I reached out to a friend who’s struggle is kindred, I painted…and my last feat? Writing right now. Even if my accomplishments are oh so small, they are things that I’ve struggled to do in preceding days.
"Here’s to you… the world needs your brand of kindness and love, your power, your sacred ritual, your creativity, your quiet presence, your magnificent vision, your charming silliness. - Heatherash Amara”
No day is small.
