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Blame it on Facebook and its algorithms that like to remind me of things from the past. For the better and for the worse.
I re-read this one over the weekend and thought “yeah, that one needs a re-post.”
So here we are, when Monday, January 30, 2017 feels a lot like Monday, January 28, 2013
A Treatise On Monday
Originally published January 28, 2013
Written this morning at something like 5:45am
And so we find ourselves back at Monday. Ah Monday, both the beginning and the end.
I have sad, tired, squinting, groundhog eyes as the alarm goes off. I’m begging the world not to pull me from my burrow. Please don’t shine that bright light in my face.
But I’m pulled from my burrow anyway and instead of a prediction, the world anticipates my arrival at the train station and my seat on the next ride into the city.
The bright light turns out to be a beautiful ray of light, glimmering off the slowly rising sun.
All possibility is in Monday. Will this be a good week? Will this be a bad week? Will it rain?
Monday is everything and nothing. A blank canvas ready to take the paint.
What will I make of my Monday? What will I achieve? How will I stumble and will I recover gracefully?
It all exists here in these quiet pre-dawn hours. The sun hasn’t even said hello yet and here I am, writing. Scribbling the words that want to exit my head.
There is already acrylic paint on my hands from a project that is due Thursday morning. I had to get some early painting done so I can hit that deadline.
In this Monday, all things are possible including finishing a painting that is due in just three days.
I feel strangely happy today. What the hell is this? How unusual for a Monday morning.
The weekend was weird. I was cranky and then he was cranky and then it was Sunday night and another two days of not working were jettisoned to the ether. Monday turned the corner and sat down for a visit.
So here I am again loading a backpack for work, stumbling around to find my badge and my phone and my sense of self-worth.
I look again at my canvas and already I fear I have screwed it up. Don’t they say in art there are no mistakes? Just roll with it and incorporate the error. OCD and art are not friends. This major but fixable error must wait until later tonight to find its cloak.
There is a train to catch and a Monday to face. I’d rather stay home in my studio and put gorgeous turquoise paint on a willing canvas. Can I do that for a living?
You know, a girl can dream, and so I will dream as BART gently sways. When I disembark dreams stop so reality can start.
But no matter, I can dream again, later. Dreams don’t die easy.
And dreams don’t wait for the weekend.
Image from The Miracle Journal.
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It’s January. The holidays are over. Back to work. Inauguration looms large.
The skies above the Bay Area have turned a familiar shade of mushy gray. Expected for January.
When the marine layer isn’t in, it’s frosty cold. When the marine layer is in, it’s torrential. Standing pools of water soak my socks. Windshield wipers can’t keep up. The kind of rain that terrifies a New Mexican until she remembers that Bay Area drainage systems were meant to handle this kind of water. Mostly.
January feels dreary, but there is hope on the horizon. There is a break in the gray.
You see, this past weekend my favorite grocer featured unopened daffodil blooms. I scooped them up and ran home with my trophy.
I love daffodils because they remind me of what’s to come.
First come the daffodils with their buttery yellow optimism. Then almond and cherry blossoms create their own snowfall of fragrant petals. Then tulips in every color you can imagine. Finally colors and flowers of every sort jostle for the gentle rays of warm Spring sun.
I am a child of Spring and Spring is on the road, making its way back home to me. It returns with the dogged determination of a lost love.
Within my pile of hope and anticipation bought at the grocery store, there was a special stem. It made me a promise. Silent and steady.
A promise made.
A promise in progress.
A promise kept.
Now ain’t that something to get excited about?
All photos ©Copyright 2017, Karen Fayeth. Taken with an iPhone6, the Camera+ App, patience and anticipation. Subject to the Creative Commons license on the right column of this page.