A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.
~ Virginia Woolf 

I tend to think of myself as someone who does not change. And yet, looking back, I have certainly changed over time. 

It’s a constant reminder that who I am now, where I am now, is only temporary as well. I will not be the same person in the future as I am now. I actually enjoy trying to project myself into my as-yet-unknown future, although admittedly my conclusions are … usually not correct. 

I would not have predicted that I would do and enjoy something new and creative this past weekend. That is not who I have been, nor is it who I aspire to be. I have never claimed to be creative – or artistic, a term that often overlaps (at least in my mind) with creativity. I have made it a self-deprecating joke to say that I don’t have a creative bone in my body, and I leave the creating to the true artists. 

And yet, I did something creative this weekend. 
And I enjoyed it. 

I actually painted for the first time since… well, since art class, maybe, in middle school? I think? Let’s just say that art classes were not on my schedule from there on out. See above – not creative! 

But a coworker emailed about a paint-your-pet-and-sip event at a local winery, and three of us joined her to, well, paint our pets. And sip wine. For three hours on a Sunday afternoon. 

Let’s pause here, because this is not something I would typically be doing on a Sunday afternoon. I usually work through the weekend unless I am on vacation or taking a rare break. And painting would not have been my first choice for an alternative! 

But I went. I enjoyed it. And, dare I say, I was pretty proud of my creation. I’m not going to share it here – come on, really? did you honestly expect that? But it’s not hideous. 

It was an immersive activity, one that did not require that I have my face in front of a screen for hours on end. I really couldn’t think much beyond what color to mix, how to make it look a bit more realistic, and whether I was being true to the image I was working from. That concentration on something other – that immersion in something new and different – let my mind truly relax. I slept like a baby Sunday night (although the wine may have had something to do with that, too). 

It was a reminder to me that stepping outside my comfort zone isn’t always a bad thing. And it doesn’t always have to be permanent, or a really fraught decision. Sometimes, you can just do something fun. Just because. 

So I guess I’ll go on changing in ways expected and not. It’s such an adventure to see what lies ahead… as yet unknowns unfolding in ways I can’t anticipate. 

I took this slightly blurry photo yesterday morning.

It’s not the best photo in the world. If you look closely, you can see lights and fencing for the athletic field by the tree in the foreground.

But I choose to focus on the beautiful sky. It was breathtaking.

This. This is why I wake early. (Credit to Mary Oliver for that phrase, which I love…)

I could focus on the lights and the fencing, but the sky is so much more.

Why not focus on that, instead?

Sometimes, though, seeing what we want to see, or seeing what we think is there (even if it is not) is not a good thing. I was reminded of that later in the morning, when I reread an email from my mom. I had read it the night before, and (to keep this short) thought she was giving me permission to do something when I had not asked for that.

Instead, she was actually supporting what I chose to do, and there was no element of “permission” in the email.

I thought it was there because that’s what I thought she’d do, based on what she’s done in the past.

I saw what I wanted (or expected) to see, instead of what was there.

A good lesson for me. Again.

Oh, just when I think I have it all together. Just when I’m feeling good about where I am, about what I am doing, how I am doing it, and with whom I am doing it, life throws a curveball.

We had to say goodbye to our sweet Simon puppy on Monday morning.

It was one of the hardest and most loving things I have ever had to do.

I can tell myself that it was time, he was in pain, it was the right choice, and the loving thing to do.

But oh, it still hurts.

And it hurts even more because I feel  like I just took it for granted that he would always be there. A connection between me and my husband, even when we drifted apart from time to time. There were always Simon stories. Pictures of him sleeping on the couch. Pictures of him begging for a taste of pulled pork, or peanut butter, or just wanting a belly rub.

And now he’s not there. I hadn’t seen him as much the last few months – what with not traveling to see my husband as much (winter weather, schedules, other reasons…), and again, assuming that he’d be there when I could go.

This, plus a few other things going on, make me wonder how much I have taken for granted in my life

We get so set in our ways, we get so used to the status quo, the way things are, that we tend to think they’re never going to change. The dog will always be there, my parents will always be just a text or email away… and so on.

But of course that’s not true. I think we sometimes need this painful reminders that all of life is temporary, fleeting, that our current place in this world is not going to always be our place in this world.

And this reminder left a particularly gaping crack in my heart… one that will take some time to heal.

But perhaps in healing that Simon-sized hole… perhaps I can become more present in my everyday life, taking less for granted, and making sure I appreciate the ordinary everyday as it is now. Because it won’t be this way forever.

Oh, Simon, we loved you so much. You were really the perfect dog, from the minute we brought you home. Well, except for the time you ate the snickerdoodle cookies from the Amish bakery. And maybe when you chewed up your crate beds when you were trying to send us a message. You were steadfast, and loving, and just the best dog ever. We miss you.