If I post a picture of a rainbow a few days after I took it, is it still worth looking at? Or does it need to be in the moment?
Please see the Spring 2010 Willow Street Newsletter to see more about what led me to teach. While you’re reading, check out all the fabulous yoga offerings.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
I have lived in my house for almost 20 years. The house came with a bottom of the line, circa 1977 Hechinger’s bathroom. The bathtub has been rusting for a over a decade, part of the faucet would come off when turning it off, etc.
Finding myself without any pets and between tenants, it seemed like a good time to renovate. Last week, in just a day, what was a bathroom, is now a gutted space. Amazing how quickly something can be rooted out and undone. It will be taking a lot longer to reconstruct.
What I am finding most challenging is not the physical chaos. I am used to it as an old house often needs work, and this house needed work (though it was not the kind of fixer-upper that was completely missing floors, electricity, and plumbing).
Rather, what I am wrestling with is my emotional reaction to the idea of having a brand new, beautiful bathroom. There is a big feeling guilty component to be spending money on something that feels not entirely necessary when so many are in need. So while the contractor is working on the construction, I am working with a wonderful opportunity to help reconstruct (post deconstructing) my emotional relationship with things. How do I find balance between honoring those in need, my impact on the planet, maintaining my house, and my enjoyment of beautiful things? How do I feel at peace with my decisions once they already have been made? How do I apply discrimination in my aesthetics to assist in this balance?
How different the tone of these two photos just from the direction the camera was pointed, how much was included in the overall image, and the shift in the shape of my mouth. The clowns with their paint, the angle of the camera, the reflection all pointed out for me how little I sometimes understand, despite my best intentions and efforts, in going about my day and interrelating with others. Today I went to visit a friend who is in the intensive care unit. She has been struggling with severe illness for many years. Though she cannot really speak at present, I thought she was trying to reveal something of great moment. Not knowing how to react or what to say, I held her hand and told her I loved her. As I was leaving, I told her husband what I had observed (carefully not saying what I thought, which is hard for me). Later in the day, thinking of the limits and perils of common speech, I composed this found photograph, wishing for more insight, more clarity, and more power to help, but knowing that love was all I could offer.
