Friday, February 18, 2011

It's a Beautiful Day!

After weeks of arctic cold and dirty snow, spring shows up and teases us all. Trees show off their very new, young buds, birds sing a bit louder through the night, and people shed their layers and welcome the thaw. This too shall pass, of course. It's still mid-February, after all. It all goes back to normal tomorrow.

The seasons will change one to the other soon enough.

Change. It's a constant. Every day offers variations large and small. A baby gurgles his delight at seeing a stranger's face--yours. The bus arrives one minute early so that you saunter rather than run to catch the connection. The boss decides today is the day he'll trust you with an errand and not a thing goes wrong. The zipper on the skirt you couldn't fit into just last week glides to place this morning, making your week.

That last one's my wish. I went to the gym for the first time in more than two years. It was painful--I now know exactly how much I weigh and just how far I have to go to get back to fighting form. But this I can change. Fat burns, muscles strengthen and fragile egos heal.

I can't change growing older, greyer, slower. But I can change how I do all three. I will step with a surer foot, and reach out with a steadier hand.

And I can finally change how I live in my home. I've wanted to do it since moving into my bland space of an apartment. New office, new living room, new bedroom. The biggest change? Color. There'll be lots. Bright greens and dark, deep blues; soothing whites and transitional greys; small streaks of gold and violet. Spaces will invite and excite, or cocoon and protect. The planning of it excites me as much as the new space will surely invigorate me. I can't wait.

Yes, I can. The change will happen soon enough.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Into the Unknown

Sometimes an adventure for one leads to a story shared with many.

I never thought I'd find myself a member of the blogosphere. But after resisting and denying the urge to write, I've given in, acknowledging that sometimes there's no better way to share emotions, dreams and schemes.

So I'll share what inspires and amuses me. I don't expect hordes of followers. Hell, I may be the only one who reads this, ultimately. But the outlet is welcome, even when it's painful to put thought to virtual paper. Sandra Cisneros, whose seminal book "The House on Mango Street" I'm currently reading, describes part of her creative process in the book's introduction: "At night, under the circle of light from a cheap metal lamp clamped to the kitchen table, she sits with paper and a pen and pretends she's not afraid." I understand that fear, the struggle to shape an idea and communicate to an as-yet-met reader. Or design client. Or gallery visitor. Or clothes horse. It's all one and the same.

Living with an open heart presents challenges, but the rewards are great. Writing with an open mind offers no easy roads either, but I'll do my best.

Because no adventure teaches without challenges.