My ideal day is waking up outside to the sun on my face – not an overpowering sweaty sun of doom or a jolting sun stream from a fourth floor dusty window but rather a sun of purely golden goodness, waking me to that feeling I get in those in-between limbo times like holiday breaks where I’ve found myself sleeping on the top of a boat and feeling so *this is how it should always be cause this is what truly is and what truly matters* and then I would welcome in the day with a fresh cooked meal, a slow cooked meal, with my love, my scruffy love, and our little one running between our legs carelessly and us picking her up and holding us while we cook – of all things – banana pancakes – while we move slowly and quietly – but with joyful purpose – through our wood womb of a kitchen, light and green *oh that sweet lime nature green shade* comes through the windows and we take it in, absorb it, feel it freshen us, these fruits, these pancakes, the coffee that hits our lips, it freshens us to the day before us, full of certainty and at the same time hopeless wonder. Not like the cheap cheesy kind of wonder of doctor office lollipops or summer fair prizes but the type of wonder that is so pure and natural that it is not only nonnegotiable but also overflowing and rich – oh so rich with possibility ¬– and we’re excited by it but also calmed by it cause it’s like what else could matter? if we have each other and our little love and the comfort of one another at the end of the eve.
And then i take a long solo bike ride by a body of water that ends at a — guess – perfectly zenful studio where there is a feel of community and togetherness but also solitude and oneness – and I vinyasa and connect to my legs, my low back, my neck – oooh ahh that crack ¬– and I flow from pose to pose with ease and grace but also with intention and appreciation for my body and its capabilities (cause lahhhhd knows it couldnt always do this!) aaaaaand after i yoga i meet a friend for coffee and we have a tasty conversation that is light and silly but also we talk about exactly what i’ve been needing to get off my chest (i guess even in dream world i have stressful stufffs built up inside) but not with too much depth cause we dont have to cause we get each other enough to skip the vowels and the preceding statements and cut to the core of what needs to be said and what wants to come out.
Then I go to my studio & I melt & I carve & I make headway on some new and exciting project & I find a spindle of connection between something of the morning – the shadow of the long grass on the sidewalk as I biked – or – more abstractly, something my love said or did or made me feel – and suddenly it makes sense in wax and in metal, it makes sense as its concretized, as it exists outside my mind and my mind’s eye and in the flesh of an “artist’s materials” and i’Il just think to myself – ohhh this will be good and I am satisfied!
I return to the garden and I pluck out our reds and our greens, our peppers and sprouts, and with innovation and bliss I cook them while listening and dancing around to something real good, something real good and soulful and silly, and my hubb comes home and we eat our fresh goods outside with a wine buzz, little lights, and then a dance upstairs, where we please each other in just the way we both have been craving–slow and deep, then deep and strong…