When the Mind Opens . . .

You never know what might pour out. There are a lot of daily duties in life that don’t require much thought, or any thought, or any thought that matters at least. It’s at those times I sometimes think my mind works the hardest – at going nowhere with any semblance of coherence, certainly, but go it does. At odd times like those, I think things like this:

Looking at the wardrobe I am accruing for fall/winter/spring – because I have grown weary of the costume for casual wear of jeans/t-shirts/sweatshirts that I have worn for oh so manner years – and because as I grow older, what becomes the most important thing is comfort of what I’m wearing. There are certain items of clothing we females have been taught we must wear that will never ever be truly comfortable, and we deal with those – but why not seek out as much comfort as possible where we can? So. Oh yes. The wardrobe I am accruing . . . my daughter this year introduced me to a brand of leggings that she is very fond of, and I discovered why. These are not the leggings I have tried wearing in past with no success, because I’ve felt as if I was being strangled, held hostage by elastic and spandex, both fabrics meant to choke the life out of me, I’m certain. These leggings are – comfortable! Non-restrictive! Life is a new adventure! So, I have opted for these leggings, and only these leggings for my comfort wear. However, there is a glitch. My body is no longer svelte and trim (if ever it was really svelte and trim), and leggings without something concealing the mid-section of my body is most unattractive. I mean, in these leggings I look pregnant – so I have opted for long tunics to wear with them. Last night I suddenly realized I have gone back to dressing like I did 40 to 50 years ago, when I was pregnant – but if I were to wear leggings with regular t-shirts or tanks, I would be wearing what is maternity clothing today. Funny how things change, isn’t it?

This morning, idly staring at a map my daughter (again) got me – a scratch-it map that you scratch off the states/countries you’ve been to, I was wondering if it counts if you have only a short stop at an airport in a country on the way to where you’re going. Could I scratch that country off? I mean, if I were to stop in Iceland, say, on my way to Italy, say, could I say I’d been in Iceland? I mean, I was in Iceland. Only for a few minutes, yes, but. . . would it count? This is an earthshaking matter, you know.

As are so many things when household duties rear their ugly heads. Earthshaking. Like, who decided floors need to be cleaned? Why wasn’t packed earth good enough? Why don’t my reusable grocery bags know how to find their way to the car? Or, why doesn’t my brain notice those bags sitting right by my back door, which I go through when I go to my car? Why did I end up at the stores yesterday, without my bags? Yes, those bags sitting safely inside my back door. The one I walked through to go to the garage. Does my brain have a pause button that going through a door triggers? It must, because too many times when I walk through a doorway heading to another room, I suddenly have no idea why I’m in that room. Well, I do know why – I was on my way to get. Something. I have no idea what. That door triggered the pause button in my brain. It’s a fact. They did a study about that.

These thoughts do accomplish one thing, however. They draw my attention away from the state of matters in life these days. They draw my mind away from the thought that our country is splitting in so many directions. It’s as if the western part is going to turn into one big torch and burn away. The southern part is going to be washed away, out into the ocean, leaving only a shell of the land that was there. What remains of the country is being split into bits and pieces by our political situation, and the dysfunction of our political bodies. Part of Mexico has been reduced to rubble by an earthquake. Which led to something I did this morning, in response to those feelings, after my mind came back from it’s little trip. I won’t call it a painting, but rather an introspection in ink. And I will share it, because why not? It’s this – The Tracks of my Tears.

Now that I’ve pulled you into these depths, please know that my heart is with all of those suffering the calamities Mother Nature is raining on us, and send hugs and hopes for the very best to everyone.