Most Mornings

February 26, 2013 Candace Morris 2 Comments




A least a few moments each morning are spent in this alcove of the house.  I usually write a few pages in my journal and Bowie is usually content to play with her toys and practice her sitting up, her cooing, and her fine motor skills.

A lovely, lovely few moments,
most mornings.



2 comments:

a day off

February 22, 2013 Candace Morris 1 Comments











































A long sleep followed
a lingering shower followed
a lazy benedict and press followed
a blustery need to feel the elements followed
a soaked dress followed
a mussed left eye followed
a nest spotting for her followed
a merry trip to consign followed
a finding of the perfect piece of clothing followed
a eager drive to retrieve the progeny followed
a whiny greeting from the family canine followed
a relieving reunion with the cheeks followed
a rainy drive back to the city followed
a bag of produce given by neighbors followed
a few moments of late afternoon sun followed
a dinner of berries and squash followed
a relax while gazing at the planets above her crib followed
a much-needed bath followed
a much-neededer wine.

If you need someone else to make the space, to give you the permission, here I am to clear your schedule, take over your life for a few hours, and shove you out the door to your very own day off.  We play this manipulative game with ourselves and others, indicating terribly weariness, but with a martyr's tone say we are needed too badly or have too much work to do or it's too much of a hassle to arrange it.

Deserved, not deserved.  Wanted, not wanted.  Needed, not needed...I don't care.
Just take your day off.


1 comments:

On the artist's ego

February 21, 2013 Candace Morris 2 Comments



As I sit to read (and inevitably interrupt myself with the photographing of it), I wonder about the correlation of reading and writing.  Only one sentence into an essay or one stanza into a poem and I am itching for a pen or keyboard myself.  

It's hard to know what to do with myself when Bowie is not around.  She is playing with Grandma overnight, so here I am with some 'time off' and I spent the first 30-min of it shuffling about the house aimlessly.  I am especially skilled at time-management, so I have no idea how Moms that are not also inclined deal with free time.  You have to have a plan, man!

So to tea.  Earl Grey. Hot.
Then to Cheryl Strayed, the author of the third of these essays I am reading and writing about. 
Then to discuss Ego.

An obvious progression, of course. 
(?)

Well, I was listening to hip hop today.  I know, I know.  Shocking behavior for me.  I was lost on the way home from dropping Bowie off, so I had time to kill.  I opened Spotify and typed in this artist, a local musician my friend turned me on to.  This rapper talks about a lot of nonsense and a lot of meaningful issues, as any rapper should.  But what he kept mentioning was Ego.

Ego got in the way of his success.  He "sparred" with it. 
"Make the money, don't let the money make you."
How his goal was to capture the human experience, and perhaps speak into mine as I listened.

It's about work, and work, and then more work.
"The greats weren't great because at birth they could paint.  The greats were great because they paint a lot."


And while the hip-hop scene is much more reliant on Ego and reputation (define: game), I have begun to realize that ego has been one of my very best friends in this whole 'Hey, wanna try to be a writer?" game I've been playing with myself.

It's so stupid.  

Those are my deep thoughts on the matter.

SOO.  Today, as I write.  I make a cup of tea in a very gorgeous little cup and saucer.  I like how precious it is.  I've never sipped from it until today.  It has been a decoration on my windowsill.  I guess you could say that it had an ego all its own.  But no, cup!  You will be used and used and used instead of just admired.  

And that was the day that I was inspired by a rapper and a teacup.
In a way, taking myself less seriously is making a serious artist out of me.



p.s.
great song
great song
such a great song
the song he's most famous for
a great video of him rapping for NPR (delish!)

2 comments:

New: A Discipline

February 19, 2013 Candace Morris 3 Comments

I find myself transfixed by the new this morning.

[ a new fern ]


[ a few new jars of homemade baby food ]
specifically:
butternut squash
applesauce
pears
blueberries and apples

[ the new fashion ]

[ the new blue ]


If you have ever had the privileged of enduring a Seattle winter, you will never look at a blue sky the same.  It feel it must be akin to being blind, then waking up to sight. 

I think I am entering (another) new-normal.  There is a real mental discipline necessary (and one I am proud to say I feel myself growing stronger in) required to enjoy these times when the dust of Bowie's incessant transitions settle.  I have every confidence this new-norm will dissipate quickly, but I am determined to feel the goodness of it while I can.

For how can we move forward with seeing the evil in this world (i.e. noticing  and eradicating the racist or misogynistic lingerings in our 'modern' culture) if we cannot move forward with seeing the good?  Both require a trained, disciplined eye.


And I think of you all, reading this quietly in your cubicle or office or home or studio or on the bus with your children fluttering around you or your dog(s) warming your feet or your partner heating water in the kitchen or your coworkers chatting in the hallway or your fellow commuters sitting too closely and I reach out my cybernetic hand to greet you and send my wishes for something new entirely and only for you.

And if you cannot locate the Universe's gift of new to you, perhaps a new photograph of Bowie will assist.

[ Bowie is wearing one of Joel's baby sweater/hats made for him by his Grandma Jessie ]



3 comments: