Life as Art

I have missed writing more in the last two weeks than since I started writing, including yesterday, and just before I went to sleep last night, I thought about writing just to capture some words on the page. Then, I told myself not to do it. There's no point in writing a paragraph that says virtually nothing just out of obligation. But obligation aside, I have committed to writing this blog pretty much daily, and today I am renewing that committment.

It's been a full week already. Yesterday Alan moved most of his stuff into the house, and today he finished. In preparation for the move, I also spent a lot of time cleaning the carpets, as well as going through all of my stuff. There is so much crap that I have accumulated in this house over these almost eight years! And it's so good to go through and downsize. Just today I freecycled a pair of hiking boots, as well as the frame to a futon that had been given to me. If I only can keep this stamina for a while, I can hopefully get rid of lots more crap that I don't need anymore.

As I type, Friday has crawled onto my left knee, and is happily purring away, licking my fingers and the back of my hand. What a beautiful kitty! Yesterday, as I steamed the carpets, I made sure he was far away from the noise. I let him out onto the porch, and he spent some time nestled under a table that is covered in a bright Bolivian tablecloth...under the table is a box filled with dry spearmint leaves. He love to crawl in there and munch on the minty leaves and just hang out. He spent a lot of time there yesterday, but when I went to go check on him and take a break, he wasn't there! To my surprise, he had snuggled up into one of the porch chairs, and was curled up on a cushion. He picked the chair with the most sunshine, and was super adorable. I got my camera and took probably forty photos - I particularly loved the angle of the bright sunlight as it defined his white little whiskers, and the texture of his fur. Too cute!!

Today, too, as I began to make more order from the mess that has been my home this last week, I thought about life as art. About how I choose to live in my space. Now this isn't the realm of deep philosophical or metaphysical stuff...that is the stuff of my inner life, for sure. But in my home, I choose to live artfully. Not fancy, not expensive, not terribly particularly. But in ways that express the color of my soul. I love this! I am not choosing to follow any fashion trend, nor any fancy, exclusive interior design style. I'm not going for any "look" or anything. But what I have managed to create in my space is some kind of bohemian whimsical art. The art of living, indeed. I love the thought that all arenas of my life can be expressed and experienced as the art of living. My spiritual life, my work life, my home life, my relationships. All are art! And I have had these wild and fun visions of painting murals on the doors of each room. Since I'm not a gifted or experienced painter of representational art, it's guaranteed to be somewhat childlike if it's not a mess. But I'm okay with that. I've already had a blast in my previous forays into painting the walls - from the wavy divisions between contrasting colors, to the sun on the wall of the living room (sadly covered by a bookshelf now), to the massive tree painted in the hallway. What's next, that's the question...