One never knows what thing will happen that opens up the little crack inside of the mind that reveals a treasure chest of possibility, buried by the daily living of years spent making choices around survival rather than choosing life. The musings of a little girl, those dreams and intentions now appear to have been safely tucked away and not thrown away as I had thought for so many years. I have found all of them, each shining dream, and I believe they want to illuminate my way through the path I now follow to achieve grace, elegance and an easy joy with life.
My childhood imagination, your childhood imagination, all childhood imaginings may well have been the very truth of finding peace the whole time. The treasure chest is open, let's see what wonders I find in there.
I began this post early this morning after setting up this blog and find that I must continue because so many things have been rambling around inside of my head. The things I love that feed my soul, the things I pretended to love to feed someone else's soul and the countless things that fed no one's soul. Far too often the things that I had to do to "survive" not only did not feed anyone, various acts themselves produced an unnecessary starvation for all concerned. It has always seemed like a table for one but I am quickly coming to learn that many women of a certain vintage have shared this table with me.
I love the scent of lavender. I have always loved the scent of lavender. I love the scent of freshly waxed furniture and glossy finishes on table tops. I love the scent of lemon polish. I remember everyone laughing at Mary Hartmann in the late night soap opera of the same name when she finally lost her mind wondering whether or not she had "yellow waxy build up" on her kitchen floor. I feel now that dear Mary simply went to a familar place to find comfort. Mary Hartmann, Mary Hartmann existed at a time when the simple pleasures of being a woman in our culture were being dismantled. I admit to reluctlantly being a part of this movement and in hindsight, I wonder if we lost the right to grace in the pursuit of equality.
Perhaps it is asked only because I am a lady of a certain vintage. Pehaps being of certain vintage, I can now claim my right to the world I created as a girl in a room with tiny pink roses on a white background with old furniture painted a pink somewhere between bubble gum and the inside of a seashell that echoes the sound of the ocean.
This is my first post. I thank Melissa at The Inspired Room for pointing me in the direction of that pretty room that inspired the child so many years ago.