Though both Steven Tyler and Ralph Waldo Emerson buy into the life is a journey concept, I have always preferred to reach the destination. Never mind that the writing of a novel lasts ten years and the finishing of it but a moment. Who wants to be quietly happy for ten years when she can have her existence justified in one grand flourish? This weekend, however, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself occasionally enjoying a process, namely painting.
I am neither a skilled nor a speedy painter, a reality that once would have caused me great emotional and mental turmoil. Now, though my lack of speed in many areas still astonishes me, I don’t always find it necessary to bludgeon myself because of it. Loosening the death grip on perfectionistic tendencies appears to make life less painful.
The breakthrough came when my mom and I had stopped for a pie break. I was mentally cataloging everything that remained to be painted when Mom began telling stories of when I was a baby. Apparently I used to make a little three-fingered Buddha sign sometimes when I fell asleep.
When she told me that, I thought, “Sitting on the patio eating pie and listening to your mom tell stories is more valuable than a professional paint job.”
I usually reply to myself, “The trim I painted looks like crap.” Instead I said, “You are probably right.”
Several times throughout the course of the weekend I believed that doing whatever I was doing, regardless of how poorly, mattered more than some as yet unrealized result. I don’t know where this ability to value the here and now came from, but I do know it resulted in a general lowering of the frenzy level.
So let’s look at the stats:
- Electrical plates remaining to be reattached: all of them
- Door knobs that escaped unscathed: 0
- Spots I completely missed (current count): 2
- Days I will feel guilty for locking my cat in the garage for three days straight: varies inversely to the number of times he draws blood
- Walls that probably need another coat of paint: 1
- Degrees lighter and cheerier the downstairs feels with fresh paint: immeasurable
- Changes in the “my life may be OK as is” meter: a few priceless notches up
5 thoughts on “Rolling On”
Excellent. This may further cheer you, one non-professional to another: the spots you miss are referred to as “holidays.” Helps me enjoy spotting them.
Love it. And will definitely use it as there’s the rest of the house to do.
Awwwwwwr. I’m glad pie and stories were a turning point. Your delicious pie, btw. What Wall Needs Another Coat??!!?? I’m sure Tux has forgiven you. He probably blames it all on me. Electric plates are all back on! Place looks and feels fabulous. The only way to keep doorknobs clean is to take them off, and I’m not so sure that’s a good way to go. Maybe take one off and put it back on first, before taking them all off?
Yay and double yay for the notches up. : )
[…] looking at the piles of unwashed clothes and the pot rack still covered in paper two weeks after painting. (Yes, seriously.) But Saturday itself was a rare event for me, a day during which existence […]