This is my favorite corner in the living room. I love the books and the black and white poster of Venice, and they way the light comes through the window at a certain time of day. It reminds me of an Emily Dickson poem, "A Certain Slant of Light". It has always been a favorite of mine.
Yesterday, I visited my youngest brother's house. He invited us out to swim in his new pool. It's a beautiful pool, indigo blue, odd in shape and just the right size. He's so proud of it. I enjoyed the time we spent there but last night, as I tossed and turned, I found myself caught up in thoughts about all the things I need to do around my house. I was comparing again, which is dangerous for me. It always puts me in a place of discontent. Why do we do this? What makes us think that our value lies in our materialistic possessions? Our stature in life?
For me, it's pretty transparent. My brother is younger than me, and financially, he's so far ahead of where I'd like to be. When I spend time at his beautiful home, mine seems so shabby in appearance. If you haven't guessed by now, this is a constant struggle of mine, the comparison game.
But the key with this game that I play with myself, is realizing exactly what I'm doing at that moment. This time I did. This morning, I woke to the sound of the dull alarm and for a moment, hated the day that stretched out ahead of me. I looked around my house with such a critical eye and hated everything I saw.
But I stopped myself and decided to look at the things that I love. The things, visually, that reflect my personality and my joy...like my little book corner. And then the immaterial things that count as my blessings. I lost the comparison game, but I won! I decided not to play anymore. It's boring and involves no one, absolutely no one, but myself.
I love this blog. As I look back to the first post, I realize that I've been in quite a long process of change. And so much of it has unfolded here, in writing out my thoughts.
Because that's where all change begins, in the mind, right? But the mind is a complex place, full of dark corners and hidden nooks and crannies. Only in writing can I find them and flood those places with light.
Not bad for a Monday morning...:)