This morning I wandered into the kitchen with a slight hum in my head and the lingering feeling of dancing all night. I had the numbness that demands the sweet satisfying smack of rich, nurturing hot chocolate. I drifted off to Paris in a very fabulous, skimpy frock, with just a hint of lingerie peeping out. I was carrying my Manolos in my hands. After a nights dancing my soles were worn to the bone.
(for more examples of the wonderful work of Lynette Joy Martini go to http://www.lynettejoy.com
I slipped into the Patisserie for a warm croissant, fresh from the oven. The baker grinned (just a smudge of flour on his upper lip). I ran home with the hot pastry slightly burning my fingers through the paper. I warmed up the milk, stirring in the fresh chocolate until the intoxicating brew invited me in. The croissant mopped up the sweetness and I savored the first bite…
And then the alarm went off! In my kitchen I had forgotten to put the bread on and there was just a solitary crust staring back at me. The kids were going to revolt, so a quick trip to the bakery, to hang out with the bakers and the horse racing crew who were eating instead of racing, due to a heavy fog at the track.
Oh my way back from Paris with a thud.
Story has the power to transform. There was no dancing for me last night, just a tiny wee baby with a demanding catch cry. She likes to chatter during the night. She enjoys the soothing words and gentle pats. It’s as good as dancing for her. For me, while I respect her need, it leaves me feeling worn out and fractious.
So how do you stay well, when life gets in the way? I eat good food, exercise moderately daily. Do yoga once a week. I enjoy a positive outlook, and supportive family and friends. Life is generous to me, not always perfect, not always what I expect, but fair and reasonable. Whole health remains elusive to me right now though.
Health doesn’t appear to be an entitlement but an incredible privilege. With a young baby to care for, and a normal busy family life aside, health maintenance often feels a bit like trying to put out one mighty bush fire, when someone keeps lighting another one just over the next hill. Scorched.
So I allow my stories to sooth my soul, if not necessarily my soles. They are like balm for a cracked countenance.
And on the days when stories won’t let me escape, I seek to understand the lessons of weariness, and nagging ill-health. The wisdom in a sniffle and cough. The virtue in an ache of the neck.
Life is very grounding. It teaches us everything we need to know. And when that’s just too hard, I’m going back to Paris for some Hot Chocolate and a warm pastry.