Being There

As you can see, I haven't gone anywhere.  Idle threat.  Lazy.  Comfortable with things the way they are and have been for the past 204 (!) blogs so far.  Fearful of change.  Too old to take on something new.  Why bother?  Short attention span.  Better things to do with my time.  Ain't really broken so why fix it?  Bloom where I'm planted.  No matter where I go, there I'll be.  Whatever.

It never ceases to amaze me.  I get up in the morning, get my coffee, sit down here and have abso-lute-ly no idea of what I am going to write. I just do know that I have to exercise my right brain. And I stare out the window, look into the trees. Suddenly, the Morning Muse, the one who has been sleeping on one of the branches of a pine tree, takes flight and lands on my fingertips.  That is, if I allow her to do so.  Allow her?  I beg for her to come into this room.  I love following my muse as she guides me and rarely do I question her opinions.  Today, she is hard at work and I can barely keep up.  I'm still not sure what direction she will point to but I 'm watchful and ready to participate.

I had intended to move my blog to another blog site.  I wanted to put more "buttons" on this one, little interesting side-bar selections for readers as I have seen on other blogs, but could not seem to find the way to do this. I got frustrated so I just figured I'd start out fresh with another site and I tried. Half halfheartedly.  It isn't easy.  It's like moving to a new community, bringing your old stuff, and trying to fit in with new friends and neighbors, all at the same time as you are trying to please the old friends and not lose them along the way.  I tried to copy and paste but it just wouldn't happen.  Is there a war between the two sites, a border patrol that I couldn't see?  Is my blogger passport out of date?  Well, for whatever reason, I abandoned the project, at least for now.

Isn't that what we so often do?  Abandon projects?  At least, that is what I find myself doing, more often now than when I was young.  Every couple of months, I clean out my storage closet, the one filled with my best of intentions, and throw out, into the dumpster, unfinished "projects"; half-completed sweaters and my attempts at stitchery, canvases filled with collage-bits, magazines and articles that once held the promise of a closer look.  Money and time, wasted, or maybe not.  Is it not better to have tried and moved on, than to not have tried at all?  Doesn't being at an age, over sixty-five, give us a few free passes that we can pick and choose from when we have to decide between staying and moving on?  I think back to the past twenty years of my life and realize that they came and moved on quickly and I know that the next twenty will be here and gone all too soon as well and now, I give myself permission to try things, to see what fits and feels manageable in my life and to discard all that does not.  So, I remain here blogging on and on.

Did the morning's visit from my muse bring me a list of cliche's?  I think not.  It's Monday and the start of a new week of the realization that I don't have to try so hard at being who I am and doing what I do.  I just have to be there.