that's mrs. mediocrity to you

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you are here.

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What are your simplest pleasures?
Go beyond description and into showing the experience of each indulgence.

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The sun beats down on my back.

Birdsong fills the air with anything but silence, yet it feels quiet.

Bees buzz and hover, always, always in search of nectar.

Joni Mitchell sings Blue in the background,
which somehow never makes me blue.

Usually, I sing along, loud and without caring how I sound.

Sometimes I just listen.

Sweat pours down my spine, off my brow.

My hands are dirty, I have leaves and seedpods in my hair.

The wide open expanse of sky lifts me up, opens me,
my mind soars.

Tiny bits of life, all cradled in their own little microcosm,
become my focus.

A seedling that finds a way to root in the most unlikely of places.

The ant hill that has destroyed my thyme.

Life, bursting forth without fear or politeness.

An ache begins to spread up my legs. Knees creak and quiver.

But I never stop until my soul has had enough.

Until I am restored.

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this post is part of the scintilla project. see more here.

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What does your everyday look like?
Describe the scene of your happiest moment of every day.

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every day starts with this cup.

the reflection is always different,

some days there are flowers,

some days nothing more than grey skies.

but always, there is something

to see.

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this post is part of the scintilla project. see more here.

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When did you realize you were a grownup?
What did this mean for you?

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This prompt made me smile, because my first thought was, “Never.”

I’m still waiting to feel like a grownup, still waiting, at almost-50, to feel differently inside than I did when I was 18, or 12, or 6. And don’t get me wrong, I act like a grownup, I do all the things that grownups are supposed to do, I’ve raised children, run my own business, bought a house, contributed to society.

I’m quite responsible, other than for the occasional forgetfulness that plagues my family, as in, “I went to the store for bread and milk and forgot the bread.” I’ve always been responsible, even as a child. Always worked for straight A’s, never skipped school or even homework, got my first job when I was 12 and worked hard ever since, I take care of my health for the most part, I take care of other people when they need it, all in all, I am a very grownup grownup.

But I’ve never stopped being amazed at life, I’ve never stopped being hopeful, I’ve never stopped looking at the world around me in wonder. Never stopped with the rose-colored glasses.

Okay, I have missed a few days. Maybe even months.

But I always go back to that place, the same place that will find you lying on your stomach in the grass watching an ant try to move a potato chip, the place that lets you believe in the magic of Santa Claus, the place that lets you see how fragile and wonderful and beautiful life is, believe in the goodness of others, be certain that the sun will rise another day.

I have always been a Caretaker of Wonder.* And inside this body that seems to be aging without my permission, this keeps me young. Yes, young at heart is the best I can hope for at this point in my life, but that’s not so bad.

My goal has long been to never become a bitter old woman. It is (and I have mentioned this several times before) to be the old laughing lady. If that means that I will never really truly feel like a grownup, well, then I am okay with that. I may not be able to get back up once I lie down to watch ants crawl through the grass, but I am okay with that, too.

I can always roll over and see what shapes I can find in the clouds up in the sky.

I think I see an angel, don’t you?

*From one of my favorite children’s books by Cooper Edens.

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over this tree

in this year

with this man

beneath this sky

outside this house

savoring this moment

in this life

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I’ve been thinking so hard lately that my brain hurts. Thoughts swirl around in my head until all I can hear is the howl of wind. I wish I could say that I’ve been thinking about something profound, but, no, just ordinary, everyday, very mediocre things.

Of course, there has been a lot to think about with all that is going on in the world. And while that has all been added to the mix, most of what’s been swirling around inside my brain is internal, what I should, or should not, be doing with my life kind of stuff.

It feels like one long experiment.

Of course, that is not necessarily a bad thing, it is precisely that constant change that keeps us on our toes. But you can only stand on tiptoe for just so long before your muscles start to ache. A little stability would be nice, I’m thinking. Perhaps some alignment would be good.

The other day, as I was whining to myself, it occurred to me that I have it all wrong. That no one, nowhere, ever said it would be easy. Or if they did, they were talking out both sides of their mouth. It wasn’t so long ago, in the history of man, that day to day life was simply a matter of survival. That all our time was spent hunting, gathering, defending, surviving. In fact, for some of us on this earth right now, that it still the way of it.

There is no easy button. We keep trying to find one, though. I see it everyday, everywhere around me, people searching for the magic that will make life perfect, or meaningful, or safe, or continuously happy.

But it doesn’t exist. Nothing will ever make every single moment of life perfect. There will always be bouts of wind and hail and sleet and rain to batter you as you try to put down roots, stand tall, keep growing. There may even be the occasional flood, or blizzard, or tornado. Those are the moments when you hang on for dear life, and if you make it through, when they are over, you are grateful just to be alive.

You straighten up, stand tall, reach for the sky.

Because the simple truth is that life is hard.

But also, it’s beautiful.

It’s so lonely here these days…

On Wednesday, Google discontinued Google Friend Connect, and I didn’t find out until it was already deleted. So, for those of you who followed me from there, my blog will now be gone from your list. Apparently Blogger blogs still have the GFC feature, but since I am on WordPress, I do not.

If you like, you can manually add me into your Google Reader list
by using this url:

https://www.mrsmediocrity.com

And here are some other current ways to follow:

facebook

twitter

google+

I always put my posts up on facebook and twitter, and I am planning to start posting them on google+ as well.

There is also an RSS feed option in the “follow me” tab at the right.

If you have any other suggestions as far as how you prefer to follow blogs, please let me know.

I miss seeing all your little avatars on my sidebar.

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I haven’t always have time to respond to comments, but I want
you to know how much I appreciate the fact that
you follow, visit, comment, support.

It means a lot.

xoxo

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And letting be what is not.

The hardest part is deciding which is which. Choosing what to excise, considering what is worth keeping. It seems like it should be easy, no, simple. But if there is one thing I have learned in my almost 50 years of life, it is that very few things are simple.We want answers where none exist, permanence where there is only temporary, stability where there is only change. Constant, continual change.

It’s can be hard to keep up. Hard to let go of old habits and possessions and comforts. There is always the possibility that you will get it wrong. The potential for regret. I’m not a fan of regret.

And some of it comes down to actually attempting to change who you are. To overcome your own weaknesses and turn them into something resembling strengths. Part of me wonders if it is even possible. I am not an overly-organized sort of person, my desk is always, always a scattered mess of papers, I put paperwork off to the very last minute, I procrastinate about doing things that need, truly NEED, to be done.

There are smaller things in my life that have needed fixing for years. Literally years. Some days I stop and I wonder how this happens. The door that still doesn’t close quite right, the shower spout that needs replacing. The window I never open because the screen needs repair. These are all things I know how to do, yet, somehow, they never manage to be done.

All things I want to change, things I have attempted to change over and over again. And almost always, I have failed. Am I attempting the impossible? If I’m simply not wired to be a certain way, should I just live with the way things are?

Except. I’m not happy with the way they are.

So the quest continues. New resolutions are made. Habits are battled. The square peg that I am becomes a bit more worn around the edges, slowly evolving into roundness. Very slowly. Shape-shifting is a difficult thing.

Perhaps that is because deep down, I’m perfectly fine with being square. Actually, more than fine with it, glad of it.

However, the world I live in is round.

And so, I compromise. It seems to be a matter of survival. I learn as I go along, and hopefully don’t make the same mistakes too often. I struggle with my imperfections, my inability to be the kind of person I am not. I find ways to work around it, ways to be who I am and still live in the world that exists.

But it takes a lot of effort and energy and time. Time I would rather be spending otherwise. My aptitudes lie in other places. But I am realizing, as age chips away at the time I have left, that getting better at fixing and maintaining and discarding will, in the long run, give me more of the kind of time that matters.

I just have to keep working on sanding down those square edges, getting them to fit into the places I need to be, at least on the surface.

Of course, in my heart and my head, I will always be square.

And I will always be fine with that.

I can’t help it, it’s who I am.

Yesterday was a miasma of grey, and this morning I woke up to a sugar-coated winter wonderland, filled with the fresh scent that only comes with a newly-fallen snow.

I watch the sun rise from behind a crosshatch of bare branches, and a bluebird lands on a snow-capped birdhouse.

Just as quickly, he is gone.

By this afternoon, the glittery blanket will have melted back into earth. Just beneath the surface everything is shifting, changing, washing itself clean.

Everything in this life is fleeting, happiness and sadness, light and dark, sunshine and lilies. It all cycles through in its own good time, despite our best attempts to crack the code that will slow things down, or speed them up.

A lily will open when it is ready to fill the air with perfume. The sun will shine when it has finished talking to the clouds, your heart will find something to smile about when the weeping has run its course.

These are the truths that I have learned.

This morning I stand here breathing in the scent of snow and lily, trying to hold onto them even as I know that I must exhale.

But for a moment, my lungs are filled with light and love and aliveness.

And, of course, that is enough.

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black and white,

but not quite.

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