Thursday, December 3, 2009

Would You Like To Swing on a Star?

I'd say I'm finally swingin' on that star, takin' moonbeams home in a jar, and be better off than I are, but would I rather be employed? Thank you Bing, thank you very much. How's that for a song virus that won't leave your head? Or would you rather be a mule? A mule is an animal with long floppy ears, that kicks up at anything he lah lah la la la la lah lah laaaah.........brutal isn't it?! I put a song virus in here for those of who are susceptible because I was actually singing in the shower this morning for the first time in I don't know how long. I was singing Rosemary Clooney's version of "Mangoes" from her "16 Biggest Hits" CD. This song was recorded back in 1956 and spent 16 weeks on the charts at number ten. It's an intoxicating little ditty. You can check it out on YouTube.

George Santayana wrote,
"A string of excited miscellaneous fugitive pleasures is not happiness; happiness resides in imaginative reflection and judgment, when the picture of one's life, or of human life, as it truly has been or is, satisfies the will and is gladly accepted."
Now that I've shrugged off this burdensome, smelly hide that labeled me and told me and the rest of the world what I was and what I did, I feel renewed. I realize I am happy, and have been all along in this beautiful world I live in, the house I share with my truest love, this place I've always known was "home."

I've gotten back in touch with my love of cooking and domesticity in general. I'm going to find it very difficult to leave this behind and adopt a new work persona and title, because I cherish this trusted and ancient way of living. I'm baking bread on a Wednesday because I have time and because I embrace the sensuousness of flour and wonder still at the miracle of risen dough. Or I'm walking the dogs at 10 a.m. instead of rushing them up and down the road before work, yelling at them to go faster when all they want to do is experience nature like I should be doing, sniffing the air and mocking the crows. This is me, always was me, and will forever be me.
"The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves." Carl Jung

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