I. Fridays by me have become RUFRIYAYS thanks to Rufus Wainwright and his home concerts. I love them so much.
II. Last night’s stripped down version of “Slideshow” made me cry. It was *so good*.
You can listen to the original here:
“Do I love you? Yes, I do. Do I love you? Yes, I do. Do I love you? Yes, I do.”
III. It is also super cool that during the fireside chats that happen every second Friday, we (meaning the audience) get to ask him questions and often his daughter, Viva (Leonard Cohen’s granddaughter) reads them off the screen. It tickles me pink and makes me feel like part of the family.
There are a lot of us regulars who attend every concert, and a little chat area set up so we can talk to each other before and during the show. People from all over the world show up! Ah, technology! I love it so much.
IV. I bought myself flowers.
V. I painted a thing. This is for A Year Of Mary, which started yesterday over on Patreon.
I’ve also activated yearly subscriptions over there that come with a 10% discount.
VI. Being in lockdown again doesn’t feel all that different from pre-lockdown because I have been doing *nothing* that requires contact with other people for a very long time now. But. The news that vaccines are going to be delayed and the new variant is here in Canada was not welcome. Everything that’s happening right – the chaos in the U.S., the pandemic – is daunting, but I am maintaining a practice of drawing myself back into my little life and attending to the little things. The way Salem flops herself down against my left thigh when I’m writing or creating content. That constant warm steadying presence. The fact that I can order flowers with my groceries. Nag Champa. Twinkly lights. The studio full of art supplies. Zoom coffee with friends. Roasted acorn squash with cinnamon and butter. Pea flower tea, which is the most delightful shade of blue and delicious with honey and a touch of cream. Audiobooks. Being able to nap whenever I want. Watching Sookie and Salem do their daily crazy hour where they chase one another around the house. How spry Sookie is despite her advanced age (she’s 13 now). The skylight in my little nest. The fact that my plants are still alive. How beautifully all my students are doing with the content I keep throwing their way. How good it feels to paint. Journal Jams. Pictures of my granddaughter and excellent conversations with my eldest son that feel like minor miracles given how contentious our relationship was when he was living at home. The gentle wisdom of my youngest daughter and her consistency and presence. The steady witness of my amazing therapist.
V. I have a lot to be grateful and when I start to rise up out of a depression, I can tell that I’m rising up because I begin to notice. It is such a relief, y’all. It’s like suddenly realizing that you can breathe again. It’s almost euphoric.
I’m not out of the woods yet – because none of us are, really, and *waves at all of this* is still daunting and scary and anxiety inducing – but I’m definitely mending.
VI. Turns out that t-shirt that arrived at my door with the word Resilient emblazoned across it was a gift I got myself. I bought a home concert with Appalachia Rising and it came with swag. WOOT! I love it.
VII. Today will bring some inspiration in the form of a Zoom meeting with a storyteller I’ve commissioned to do some work for Moonshine. We’re going to record two stories over the next two days. Later today, I’m doing housework, and I think I’ll blast some music while I’m doing it to encourage my body to move in joy instead of trudging through the motions. I might paint. Tomorrow, we’ll record the second story, and then I have Art Winos at 3. I’m hoping to have the studio tidied up by then since all it takes to create a disaster is filming a lesson or two. Time to claw it back!
VIII. It is possible to find little pockets of happiness in hard times. It is possible to lean in that direction consciously and mindfully and doing that really helps the healing.
IX. I keep drawing The Star and every time I do, I think to myself “This is your year, Effy. Don’t say it too loudly or you might jinx it, but this is your year.”
X. I’m going to make it my own.