Not much to say tonight, except that it was a beautiful day - spending it with loved people, being loved, and feeling present in each teeny moment. There seems to be no bigger picture anymore, but a series of bright and dull pixellated dots; each one adding to and changing the previous, making a fluidity of colour, light and dark. It was a day of gradations. I hope they all are, since it seems clearer, really.
I find myself entranced with the minutiae of my life. The new haircut, sparkling t-shirts for Naomi, perfectly roasted chicken, a lovely soft smelling bar of soap, the guilty pleasure of the open house for the fabulous house you will NOT be buying, the fantastic sound of these awesome new headphones as I listen to Billy Joel [old stuff - not that pop crap from the 1990s and after. The real soulful piano-man.stuff]. The stuff of [my] beautiful life.
I see on Facebook a friend far away contemplates purchasing a lovely little yellow houseboat. I chime in - DO IT. Because, because, if you are here, then you see that that is the thing to embrace - the choices, mess, the life right in front of you. Just DO IT. Sorry, cliche. But I want to scream it out.
When I was a teenager having sleepovers in my friend Lisa Duval's basement in the early 1980s, we listened to a very short list of 45s over and over and over, crooning along, and being very ridiculously romantic. She's Always a Woman by Billy Joel was one of the hits. I recall having very intense feelings about the person being sung about - she was strong, determined, a bit of an enigma. A bit of a bitch. Not always that nice. But she got the job done. And here was this mournful lovely man singing her praises. Sort of. Not exactly an ode to the perfect woman. I wanted to be her. I wanted to be so loved, but allowed to be pretty much an imperfect creature; as we all are, really.
Now at 43, doing this ride all over again, I know I am. I am so loved. Life is an imperfect creature, but it was a beautiful day.