Old Tyme is still a-flying...
It's so much more romantic when Robert Herrick says it. Or when John William Waterhouse paints it. Enemy time. There's never enough. The thought of that fuels my fire every day. So much to do. So much to write. Work to do. Parenting to do. Books to read. Places to see. Spring brings it all to the surface again: the green flush of the grass, the gray-green furred buds on the magnolia, the yellow crash of the forsythia at the end of the drive. Another season of creativity is here after the sweet, slow hibernation of winter, and it's out there, waiting, wondering what I will do with it.
|John William Waterhouse, 1909.|
This current gig has taught me the value of the edit, the hook, of using less words to mean more. Because of the additional income, I feel legitimized to have a shared office space, which has the added benefit of allowing me a quiet place away from my musical, sports-filled, boys-filled household. I've learned to be very economical with my time. Does anyone really care if I make an elaborate meal from scratch or will a rotisserie chicken do just fine? I work in the car while waiting for soccer practice to end. It sounds a little frenetic, because it is a little frenetic, but I like being busy, being useful, earning my own money, encouraging energy to beget energy.
I am also trying to remember to take my walks and my tea, to read my book, to slow down for those morning hugs before the busy day begins. And you know what? I find I savor them all just a bit more because I know these quiet moments are to sustain me and provide me respite before off I go again.