I was so stiff and sore yesterday that I went to the gym to soak in the hot tub. Then I got into the pool a little bit, then soaked some more, hoping the hot water would help.
Then I did something I always want to do but never do. I went to a local cafe, Rembrandt's. This is in the "Arts District" of Chattanooga, on a hill overlooking the river. I love this place--the cafe, the Italian restaurant, the art gallery. Our museum is there, too, and an outdoor sculpture garden. On the weekends, there are people milling about, tourists snapping photos. There's an artsy uppity fake but charming Euro feel to the place that suits me well, as I am artsy and uppity and am not opposed to pleasant copies of things.
I wrote to classical music. I was focused, tapping my foot. Writing up a storm without much worry. I think that I will just write the book first, then come back and try to put it together later. This is not what I do but what I will try to do with this book.
I am learning to detach. I am learning to trust myself the process the story. Learning that it isn't holy. Learning to let go the bird. Then the words won't be so precious. Then I can push ever so many lacy girls with Easter baskets from the plane, when the time comes.
But being out in the world. As much as I love it......I resist the things I love. Only because they require effort. I pour thought into this. Why not do the things you know you love? Because they require effort. Movement. Risk. The great PUSH. The great holler of my mama's voice GET GOING.
My friend Lanie came to visit with me. We talked for a while, then we went to the gallery next door. The River Gallery. I love this place, too. There was a glassblower there and I watched him blow an ornament. For me. I bought it and will treasure it.
Lanie and I looked and shopped and bought gifts. Well, I bought a gift and a pendant for myself. And the ornament.
Then we walked to the bakery and there was an entire cart loaded with French sourdough and I grabbed a loaf and Lanie grabbed a baguette covered with oats and seeds. We waited in line. Then, when we got to the register, they told us we couldn't buy the breads, that they were a special order and please put them back. The only consolation is knowing that I held onto that loaf of bread and someone will be eating it without knowing my hands were upon it. And had squeezed it.
But the shoulder. My wing is broken. Jesus ought to take this cup from me. But not much chance of that. I dislike his sermons. Preachy preachy. If I were trying to cement a religion into place I would surely have chosen better books to do it. The narratives are good and the longer sermons and parables are good, sometimes great, but the rapid-fire of nonsensical wisdom, advice, sound bites, and confusing instructions are maddening. No wonder I've never liked the New Testament. No wonder Jesus and I have never had much to do with each other. The Gospels are BORING. Not the "gospel," but the damn books.
And just in case you've never read the Gospels but call yourself a Christian. Just in case you swear by the Gospels but haven't read them in years and years, please open the Bible and READ them. Because they are probably not what you think you remember.
Jesus is not groovy. He is not sweetness and light. Not even close. Not even half. So much weeping and hell fire. So much "good luck with that." So many confusing instructions. Yes, he has moments of tenderness, moments of radical ideas (you know, people are always saying Jesus was "such a radical"), but mostly he is babbling on about things that don't make sense and insulting his disciples.
But enough. I just looked up and there again are the pink orange clouds. I am not going out to take pictures. I am going to stop missing the moments of things. (I hope)
And I hope I will stop whining so much. Whining. Whining. God will take this cup from me and let me sleep ever so long without waking. But I hope we can agree to put that off for many years. And I hope I can accept with grace the aches and pains, take on the responsibility, my part in causing them.
Here's to a good day with good things in it.