My Beautiful Mess

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I’m always trying to find my balance. Every move leaves me wobbly and wondering. Did we make the right choice? Will this be okay? How can I ever know if I’m on the right path?

I suspect the answer is simple, although it doesn’t ever feel that way.

With new surroundings come new challenges. Every day is bursting at the seams with ups and downs. One minute finds me frustrated, hot and thinking it’s time to throw in the towel (which is drenched with sweat) and the next I’m overwhelmed with amazement at some small piece of magic.

Leaning out the window as the clouds burst one night, I was greeted with a friendly call of “sabaidee” from the man across the street. He kept pointing up at me to lure his small daughter out. She waved shyly to me and scooted back inside as fast as possible. My heart swelled.

Sitting down for a glass of wine on the quiet main street of town, the soft, low drum and chanting of monks washed over me from across the narrow street. My heart was calmed.

Riding Scout, our scooter, through a riverside neighborhood of unpaved streets, we were met with kind faces and friendly waves from the residents. My heart glowed.

This morning as we came down the steps of Mt. Phousi, two male tourists stopped us with what sounded like Japanese. At first I thought they wanted Rob to take their picture together but that wasn’t it. They each wanted to have a picture taken with Rob. He kindly agreed. My heart laughed.

The answer I feel somewhere deep down inside is that every path is the right path. I don’t believe in fate or that some things are meant to be.

Life to me is a chaotic, random and ever changing beautiful mess.

What we do with that mess is entirely up to us.

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7 comments

  1. Read this one this Sunday morning to hubby. He complimented how wonderful your writing was! So glad we live in this era where we can stay in touch. Remember chatting technology with you and Mike at Wine Loft!😘

  2. As always, I love where your posts take me.
    I read this late last night and then again today, lingering on all the wonderful gerunds and the particular rhythm that this post has –especially in the bridge. It creates a cloud in which I can envision each scene, listen to your narration with the natural sounds in the background, the montage and music playing on seperate tracks in my head.
    Your heart is fortunate to have all these experiences. And you are fortunate to realize, absorb and catalog them. We readers are fortunate you do.
    It brought to mind the Hermann Hesse quote: “One never reaches home,’ she said. ‘But where paths that have an affinity for each other intersect, the whole world looks like home, for a time.”
    Embrace your time.
    Embrace your mess.
    I think you are doing it right.

    G.

    • I have ALWAYS loved your writing…I’m still hopeful that your gift will be published for the world to drink in!!!
      Keep these Blogs coming, we are fed with your courage and lust of life, giving us a tiny taste of what it might feel like to have wings…

    • Thanks Grove (you don’t mind if I call you that do you?), I couldn’t ask for a nicer compliment. In another life (or my 20’s) I was in a band with my sister. I think I still find writing similar to music and I do strive for rhythm and flow. The fact that you notice thrills me. I miss singing. So, I suppose now I use my fingers to sing. (The Larson Sisters if you feel the urge to google).

      I read that Hesse quote just a couple of weeks ago and it also resonated with me. Kindrid spirits!

  3. Yes, by all means, call me Grove.
    *Googled–>Listened–>Liked*
    I really like the thoughtful, soulful feel of your sibling music. Very soothing…and right in my favorite singer-songwriter pocket. The attitudes, the rhythms, the phrasings…the shared heritage is evident in your writing here as well. That taste of your music now helps flavor my reading experience as well.

    Thrive!

    • I sort of forgot we aren’t the only Larson Sisters that come up but I’m going to guess you found the right one. Housewives and Butcher Knives? Thanks again Grove. At least once a day the word “thrive” comes to me when I need it most.


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