New Sassyisms
I'd like to thank Scarlett Steeple for inspiring the birth of a new Sassyism this morning. She asked me the secret to happiness. I was sitting cross-legged on the chocolate sofa bralessly drinking blonde coffee. The dishwasher was gurgling in the next room. The morning sky was grey and damp. After three consecutive night of eight hours of sleep I opened my mouth to take a deep breath and a little green moth flew out of mouth and said:
It's not a secret; it's just that no one believes it. Happiness is the absence of need.
There you have it. Remember a few weeks ago when I wrote about my epiphany in the dentist's chair--no one heals alone? I guess I should also acknowledge that no one writes alone either. In the great mythical book of karmic statistics Scarlett just got credit for the assist. I am grateful.
While I am at it, I should also mention that I wrote another Sassyism last week but this one was inspired by a commercial for one of those steamy carpet cleaners that promises to make your family want to sit in the floor, laughing and hugging, and play board games if you will just buy it and use it on the snow white carpet you installed for a bustling family of five and two indoor dogs. Tsk, tsk.
There is no such thing as clean carpet.
It's true. Somewhere in the great mythical book of karmic statistics that company is getting two demerits--one for perpetuating the illusion that any carpet over a month old can ever truly be clean again, and one for perpetuating the illusion that clean carpet equals domestic harmony. I didn't feel like announcing this one with blog post at the time but truth is truth and we are fondling it, aren't we?
Another dose of truth is that since the beginning of the year I have become obsessed with crowns. Right before the endof 2011 I was in Hot Springs having a birthday celebration with a group of running friends. One of my friends was turning 40 and I was sitting at the table giving her a speech about how she should to embrace the uniqueness of the middle of her life with passion and gusto. Instead of lamenting the proverbial end of her youth I told her to celebrate it and "wear that crown." The idea was that turning 40 joyfully is an accomplishment and she should coronate herself accordingly. I picked up an invisible crown from the middle of the table and imitated putting it on my head as I said it. Then I gestured to the group of her friends sitting around her at the circular table and told her to take a look at the collection of extraordinary souls that were orbiting around her. Why would this caliber of individuals be present at her birthday court if she was not something special? So drop the cloak of deprecation and Wear That Crown.
It was a divine moment that was not about me but since it happened I have had this latent penchant to seek out crowns--specifically handmade crowns--and I keep putting giant flower clips and headbands into my hair. I can't seem to stop searching for images of crowns when I have unstructured time. Last week I was home alone and made a big fuzzy purple crown to wear while I worked on my novel. The next night I made a one out of a golden scarf to wear during my meditation. Yesterday I made one out of a length of black cotton and wore it to work all day. I'll be turning 40 myself at the end of the month and I can only guess that as I watched my speech seep into my friend's eyes it must have pooled in my wineglass as well. Somehow it found its way into my own bloodstream because I am obviously looking for my crown too. Months ago I sought and found my throne (remember my green writing chair?) so even if that speech was meant for my friend this still makes some sense.
I also keep seeing hidden crowns all around me. Every day I'm seeing a crown somewhere, like this one, around the base of a lamp I don't even like. In my mind I'm seeing this as a shabby chic topknot with a huge veil of russet tulle attached to it and giant burgundy roses with blue-black cockscombs. Amber crinkly vines come down at the temples and tiny violet dragonflies perch on the billows of the tulle. Yesterday a coworkers engagement ring brought to mind a halo crown made of pale peach peonies with spikes of forsythia. See what I mean?
So as we fondle our friendships and ourselves and our truth we also fondle what is calling out to us. My crown must be calling out to me. When I find it I shall fondle it too.
(c) 2012, ACG
It's not a secret; it's just that no one believes it. Happiness is the absence of need.
There you have it. Remember a few weeks ago when I wrote about my epiphany in the dentist's chair--no one heals alone? I guess I should also acknowledge that no one writes alone either. In the great mythical book of karmic statistics Scarlett just got credit for the assist. I am grateful.
While I am at it, I should also mention that I wrote another Sassyism last week but this one was inspired by a commercial for one of those steamy carpet cleaners that promises to make your family want to sit in the floor, laughing and hugging, and play board games if you will just buy it and use it on the snow white carpet you installed for a bustling family of five and two indoor dogs. Tsk, tsk.
There is no such thing as clean carpet.
It's true. Somewhere in the great mythical book of karmic statistics that company is getting two demerits--one for perpetuating the illusion that any carpet over a month old can ever truly be clean again, and one for perpetuating the illusion that clean carpet equals domestic harmony. I didn't feel like announcing this one with blog post at the time but truth is truth and we are fondling it, aren't we?
Another dose of truth is that since the beginning of the year I have become obsessed with crowns. Right before the endof 2011 I was in Hot Springs having a birthday celebration with a group of running friends. One of my friends was turning 40 and I was sitting at the table giving her a speech about how she should to embrace the uniqueness of the middle of her life with passion and gusto. Instead of lamenting the proverbial end of her youth I told her to celebrate it and "wear that crown." The idea was that turning 40 joyfully is an accomplishment and she should coronate herself accordingly. I picked up an invisible crown from the middle of the table and imitated putting it on my head as I said it. Then I gestured to the group of her friends sitting around her at the circular table and told her to take a look at the collection of extraordinary souls that were orbiting around her. Why would this caliber of individuals be present at her birthday court if she was not something special? So drop the cloak of deprecation and Wear That Crown.
It was a divine moment that was not about me but since it happened I have had this latent penchant to seek out crowns--specifically handmade crowns--and I keep putting giant flower clips and headbands into my hair. I can't seem to stop searching for images of crowns when I have unstructured time. Last week I was home alone and made a big fuzzy purple crown to wear while I worked on my novel. The next night I made a one out of a golden scarf to wear during my meditation. Yesterday I made one out of a length of black cotton and wore it to work all day. I'll be turning 40 myself at the end of the month and I can only guess that as I watched my speech seep into my friend's eyes it must have pooled in my wineglass as well. Somehow it found its way into my own bloodstream because I am obviously looking for my crown too. Months ago I sought and found my throne (remember my green writing chair?) so even if that speech was meant for my friend this still makes some sense.
I also keep seeing hidden crowns all around me. Every day I'm seeing a crown somewhere, like this one, around the base of a lamp I don't even like. In my mind I'm seeing this as a shabby chic topknot with a huge veil of russet tulle attached to it and giant burgundy roses with blue-black cockscombs. Amber crinkly vines come down at the temples and tiny violet dragonflies perch on the billows of the tulle. Yesterday a coworkers engagement ring brought to mind a halo crown made of pale peach peonies with spikes of forsythia. See what I mean?
So as we fondle our friendships and ourselves and our truth we also fondle what is calling out to us. My crown must be calling out to me. When I find it I shall fondle it too.
(c) 2012, ACG
I guess the two Sassyisms could be combined? Happiness is not needing clean carpet?
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funny, i found another right after that, "you know you've found happiness when you stop looking for it."
Happiness usually finds Me...but I was missing my Daddy that day! lol
(and some crowns are not so hidden, huh?!)
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