Moments of a Quiet Life

 

The Monotony and Solitude of a Quiet Life Stimulates the Creative Mind. — Albert Einstein

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It’s been quiet inside and outside for a bit.  That’s always a gift.

In the space, I’ve been making a lot of cards.  I was called to make a sympathy card for my cousin’s son whose family just lost their dog.  It touched me so that I made more for my Etsy shop.  The words came from all the support and kindness given to me when Henry passed—especially from my friend Sue, who lost her cat, Lucky, last year.  She showed me the path I would be taking with my grief, and I wanted others to benefit.  I love this photo anyway, so I doubly love this card.

I started getting a drippy nose on Friday and thought a head cold was imminent, so I dragged my supplies into bed with me.  Of all the stuff I’ve done in bed (art-wise!), I’ve never made cards.  I keep so much STUFF to choose from, I thought it would be impossible.  But, it was good for me to get up and choose ribbon while pouring more grapefruit juice, wheel my paper box into the bedroom while soup irradiated in the microwave.  I made a dozen cards yesterday while flipping through one bad Netflix show after another.  And after a little fever spike and loading up on zinc, my cold seems to be gone.

I think this is An Oklahoma Gift.  In one of the shows I watched yesterday, someone said you either love the place you live or you don’t.  People who grow to love a place have just learned to ignore the things they still hate.

Is that a bad thing?  Does appreciation for the place where you’re planted have to be pure to be real?

In this quiet space, I can feel my gratitude for nine months without lung crud and the mild winter weather.  In the quiet, I can be thankful for lost cousins and reconnection.  I can use my hands and my stuff in different ways to touch others’ lives.

I’m on a Quiet Adventure.

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