...I could walk through my garden forever.
This Tennyson quote is so lush and lovely; it captures so perfectly those countless moments when reflections of our friends or family dance upon our hearts.
Easter weekend has come and gone. It was filled with myriad joys, large and small. A visit from Scott, a milestone concert performance by friends - of his, and ours, dancing, church, lunch, family, photos, rest, books, togetherness.
Today, my daughter and her husband celebrate their 7th anniversary.
Tonight, our taxes get filed.
The week ahead will be an eventful one, too, from board meetings to final grant reports, from Art Walk to a getaway with friends that will include shopping at Trader Joe's and Whole Foods.
And so it rolls, on and on, the merry go 'round of life.
There was a book club meeting tonight. We're a newly formed bunch, four - five? - books in now. Aside from the title I selected, I've only managed to actually finish one of the assigned books. I don't know if it is our "by genre" selection process or the timorous nature of the choosers, or maybe even, simply, most likely, my own literary snobbery, but I have not cared for a single book we've read.
The one discussed tonight was 'The Indifferent Stars Above: The Harrowing Saga of a Donner Party Bride.' It was not a light read, nor a lighthearted subject. The author's propensity to thoroughly immerse his reader contextually inside every recounted moment felt luxurious in the early going, layering texture to the history and humanity to the scholarship. But the deeper into the tragedy he lead us, the more yoke-like that same immersion became; too much relativity on display, too much scientific comprehension offered, too much too much too much, until the humanity bogged down a bit, and the tale he had been weaving began to feel cluttered and undermined.
Still, I did finish it. I did become invested in the lives of these tragically historic figures whose names we might never have known if not for the horror of the circumstances that befell them by virtue of a series of poor decisions and a perfect storm of unfortunate events.
One of the discussion points tonight centered on a simple posit: given everything, do you think you could have survived a journey from the country's mid-west to its Pacific shores in 1846? Would you have had the stamina and the fortitude? Would you have been able to muster the proper wits about you, screw up the necessary courage?
My answer spilled out of me without hesitation. Hell, no. I would have been among the first to show weakness, give up, die. I have no doubt. Specifically, in the Donner Party member's shoes, when anguished choices were required in unspeakable conditions, under untenable stress with unknowable result, I think...no, I'm fairly certain that I *know*... I would have folded. I would have lay down, quite possibly without a moment's despair, and given up, given over, finished.
Not a self-loathing or self-deprecating judgment, just reality, and knowing myself. Less a concern of self-esteem and more a modicum of self-awareness.
And I don't even feel bad about it, to be honest.
Maybe I'm selling myself short. Maybe stripped of all the nature and nurture that has formed me in the present day, stripped bare of all the cushy luxuries my life today requires - clean water, technologies of travel and communication, sanitation - and stripped of all knowledge of the same, I would be different. Bolder, stronger, more attuned to impulses of fight or flight.
Maybe survival would win out.
But maybe not.
Can I be frank?
I'm not particularly over the moon about the current title, either. But let's see what happens.
I'm reading more, and that's reward enough to give a few bad books a pass.
I'm also obsessed with a show, new to Netflix, called Rectify.
I'm on week two of attempt 435 with Weight Watchers.
I'm worried about the future of my husband's present job.
I'm encouraged that he wants to plan a September trip to the Grand Canyon.
I'm hopeful Jake the Dog's tweaked knee will heal soon.
I'm looking forward to a summer filled with weekend hikes and kayaks on lakes.
I'm feeling a little angst about tomorrow's Board meeting, for no good reason.
I'm - always, it seems - mourning the distance to my grand-creatures, my babies, my mother.
I'm grateful for cell phones and social media for helping them seem closer.
I'm loving the warmer weather, the greening of the mountains, the longer days.
I'm lucky to be loved by a thoughtful, kind, knowing soul.
I'm aching for a heart pounding, knee melting kiss.
I'm aware of the limitations of my own mortality.
I'm striving to be of the moment, in the moment.
I'm working on it.