The urges began long before the first flakes fell. Like a primordial barometer, my blood responded to the impending storm with an insatiable desire to create. The sewing machine and I became as one, its mechanical hum a chorus to the winds around us.
Amid the threads and scraps, a piece emerges. With it, lessons for next time.
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I thought I didn’t think much of Elizabeth Gilbert, all pop indulgence, but then she goes and writes a book about creativity and courage and, God help me, curiosity and I think: I must succumb.
As the storm raged, I watched a TED talk to ease myself in. And then another. And then bought the kindle version of The Signature of All Things: A Novel. And now I can’t put it down, glad to have dropped one name from my list of disdain.
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Today dawned brilliantly. The snow and sky seemed to compete, to conspire — somehow both — to dazzle. The world, blanketed in an ermine coat, lay luxuriant, impassable. An elegant strangle-hold, beautiful and daunting. A reminder of forces far greater than ourselves.
Shovels in hand, I joined the battalion of cheerful supplicants who will toast Jonas tonight with wine and Advil.
Life Lesson # 31: Cut carefully, pin patiently. Change your mind. Dig deeply.