Sunday, November 02, 2008


I've been so sluggish lately. It feels like the change in the weather has slowed me down. Gotta shake that off this week.

No studio time. Knitting, reading, TV...

Change upon change

Five months ago the stream did flow,
The lilies bloomed within the sedge,
And we were lingering to and fro,
Where none will track thee in this snow,
Along the stream, beside the hedge.
Ah, Sweet, be free to love and go!
For if I do not hear thy foot,
The frozen river is as mute,
The flowers have dried down to the root:
And why, since these be changed since May,
Shouldst thou change less than they.

And slow, slow as the winter snow
The tears have drifted to mine eyes;
And my poor cheeks, five months ago
Set blushing at thy praises so,
Put paleness on for a disguise.
Ah, Sweet, be free to praise and go!
For if my face is turned too pale,
It was thine oath that first did fail,--
It was thy love proved false and frail,--
And why, since these be changed now,
Should I change less than thou.
-----------Elizabeth Barret Browning

Living consciously...

Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.
~ Pablo Picasso

Today, be creative: take one repetitive, boring activity and think how you can add a layer of creativity to it.

I've been doing this for quite a while, tricking myself into "enjoying" the task, but the novelty wears off and the "is-ness" of just doing the job is usually enough motivation. Now I just try to stay ahead of the the game by doing routine chores throughout the week so that the weekend is left for leisure time. Even if activities are repetitive and boring, I try not to think of them that way.


Rian said...

I too have been feeling sluggish with the shorter days. I am at the age where I feel like I don't have so many years left, so when I waste time I really feel guilty about it, but some days you need to just go with the flow even if it's doing nothing.

jenclair said...

Love the poem! Like Rian, I have this thing about wasting time as I grow older and feel the finite quality. Yet there are slow days that are not wasted, that have their own purpose.