My house is filled with the excitement of a new bathroom vanity, lying gap-toothed, in the middle of my livingroom awaiting some strong arms to carry it upstairs where installation is hoped to go like a charm. yes. and "ha." i poured some of that awesome coffee and came upstairs into the studio. husband is finally home for a few days and Henry can find care there, i left the lights off, preferring nature's show through my wall of windows. but i stopped suddenly. there, on my new leather couch, lay drawers and marble counter tops and sinks and wooden pieces. pressing into the leather. sitting where i do my meditation. my sacred space. with no thought to ask "is it okay." i felt at once childish and also violated. there is no reason for this stuff to be up here now anyway…it could be resting by its base in the livingroom. i felt my day shattering, and a good crawl back to bed in order. then i opened this email:
there's nothing worth regret, Linda. Absolutely nothing. Ever.
Same for fear, anger and worry. Let em go, rise above, get down, move on.
They aren't worthy of you.
and my blood pressure went down a bit and i saw the childish act for what it was. i moved the heavy stuff to the floor and i moved on to my work table, which by then had the creamiest light swashing over it. and i declared it a sacred space. and i declared my heart a sacred space. and i got to work making art.