The ice has made me afraid to go outside with my big camera….afraid that I’ll slip and fall and smash it. Because it’s just that treacherous out there. I go down to the chicken coops wearing a giant pair of boots and a bucket of water and a bucket of feed/bird seed, just to weigh myself down and give me a tiny bit more traction. It’s stupid and I’m fed up with it.
That’s why I’m having to recycle photos/plumb the archives— I have no idea if I’ve posted this one of Simba before..if I have, here’s a second look at our dear Spimbo/Spim/Spimbleton <— because he is a cat-of-many-names. The table is now covered in arty bits and the old Underwood is in the spare room, awaiting repair. Some things do change, after all.
In the way that these things happen, how one person says something and then so does someone else, although in a completely random and seemingly unrelated way…the way one crumb leads to the next until disparate things coalesce into clarity….in my desire to come home to myself…I’m finding myself pondering two questions. The first being what I loved to do as a child and how many of those things have changed and how many have stayed the same.
Which is to say, what has survived the relentless shaping and molding and influence of the outer world?
What of Little Mel is left?
That, on its own, is a very Thinky Thought indeed.
The second is a question I came across recently:
What if you only had three years left to live? What would you do?
I find this an exceedingly clever question — because three years is a fairly substantial amount of time…it doesn’t have that manic urgency of only having 24 hours left. It’s a long enough span of time to change/do quite a lot, don’t you think? And it’s not — at my age — an unreasonable possibility (morbid though that may be, middle age is when everything starts falling apart and the cumulative effects of living on this planet start to show :)).
So, with only the most cursory of inner-delving…which is to say, my First Thoughts:
What of Little Mel is left?
Books and horses.
Those were the staples of my childhood passions and, along with my love of nature, remain to this day.
What would I do with only three years remaining?
That’s a tiny bit harder because my immediate thoughts are of Getting My Affairs In Order and making sure that the children would be looked after. Which isn’t very glamorous and probably not the point of the exercise but hey, that’s where my brain went! So that will require Further Pondering.
But putting the two questions together is being extremely helpful in figuring out how I’m going to continue this process of whittling down to what is truly mine.
It’s a sort of next level discernment…or at least, gives me some structure and guidance with the whole, rather nebulous idea.
And you, Dear Reader? I wonder what you think…what of Little You remains and how would your three years look? (no obligation to actually respond, just some fodder for your own thinky thoughts :))