suspected but not confirmed

A way of life….

I have often compared life to a weaving or tonight, to a beef stew mixture of fine and careful cuts of beef blended and perfected by really, very basic vegetables or more accurately whatever a cook can find handy at the moment. Throw in tomato sauce, spices and a thickening agent like tapioca (what?!) … In a few hours you have stew..

I got scared today, in my new life. What if I fail? What if I lose everything? What if I’m not enough? What if my efforts are not enough? After two all-nighters I realize I am no longer twenty, but not even at that age one wonders at the bounties gained from twenty-four plus hours.

What am I doing? I wondered. What if I fail? What if I fail G-d? And I know the correct answers to all those questions, but deep inside a person call it what you will, there is something beyond doubt, when you walk around looking at your own destruction and choices when at the time, you believed, perhaps in a delusion all its own, that you would get it together. Or that maybe I was meant to be the hermit/cat lady sans the adorable fluff balls.

I slept..to awaken from pleasant surreal dreams of sunset lit rooms to find myself in my own room with wooden windowsills colored the yellow orange of the day’s end as chickadees discovered my filled window feeder.

I drove back to work on the building wondering what, when that fat lady finally sings my song, will be the melody. What had I done with my stew? Did I devote myself to a life of delusion? Did I pretend of G-D’s calling? Did I rise up to even thinking of such devotion? Did I wish only for the ice cream cake of success? Did I pull meaning at my own convenience? Did I choose a life based upon opposites the negation of the nasties which had been experienced by my heart but thereby branding me a prisoner defined by its own opposite?

Yikes.

As I drove I saw the outlines of buildings which I had written about before. I looked twice at Maathias and Esther before returning for work. What am I doing?

I don’t know how it occurs but I remembered what I am. Amid my fear of not being boss enough to be boss and other fears of always feeling like the weirdo, I remembered this:  G-d gave me a gentle heart. That is what I fought for. I fought for peace and a home of calm and the creation of environments in which diversity-not of my own definition but that if the human condition – is welcomed and Blessed.

I realized then that I do not need to be boss to be boss. And yes Steph, you big nincompoop, you will always be too sensitive and too this and too that. But it’s okay.

It’s okay. That’s your way…

You, dearest soul of mine, are walking the path of gentleness. Honor it. (Doesn’t have to be matchy-matchy..it’s not an outfit. It’s a stew!)

Suspected. Now confirmed…

Much love and Blessings.

-Stephanie

It’s one of my favorite times…working, getting my hands into the tick of things while learning about a building. I like being dressed up and putting in the glamour, but without getting my hands into the bowels of it all … I don’t know.. I need both.

#thebeautifuljourney #onewomanslife #thebrickdandelion #ihavenocluehowtohashtag #gentleness

Hours later….

I realize now how pleased I am to have found my place, but knowing full well it is the place inside of me manifesting only when I recognize the true nature of my soul and dedicate my life to it. Hmm. That sounded way more complicated than it should have been. (Surprised?)

This, this feels good, to write and create in my own little world. What makes it especially striking to me is I feel these feelings as I arrive back at home. For many years when I lived here married, there was no peace.

Writing. Working. Buildings. Home. Ballet. Dog (drives me crazy). And last but not least, my son…who as he grows I am learning as is he, how to let him fly.

I had written years ago how I wished for my life to be a beautiful journey. It is true today but I goofed up. Somehow I got walking down the path of quantity and pace. No! No more gulping life! Over and over, round and round.

And that’s where I arrive at day’s end; writing, soothed by peace, renewal and, thankfully safe and sound after making mistakes and feeling like a tired failure.

Dear Lord, I hope I fail sometimes. For some reason my near disasters inspire my stubborn soul.

….it’s the way of life…that is what I wish my life to be. Maybe a few beautiful expressions of life, nurtured throughout the years….a way of life..

Good night. Sweet dreams…

the Esther Building, progress in the garage area

 

its the’ little black dress’ of tools

 

i’m no mason. more learning necessary!

 

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