Ponderings

Do You Even Art?

I love how chaotic and interesting an artist’s workspace is.

There’s usually paint splatters.

Ink-blotched paper curls on tables.

Pallets of color display subtle shades.

There are other pieces of artwork, bursts of color, knickknacks, and things.

I love the look of a fully utilized studio. I love seeing dried paint on the wood floors and canvases leaning against the walls and furniture. I love that the furniture is usually unique and often old – hand-me-down or just eclectic.

There is something completely serene when entering an artist’s atmosphere. Everything you carried in slides off your back and settles to the floor. You’ll have to pick it up again before you leave, but for a few moments, you don’t feel its weight.

I would like a space like this. Not that I’m terribly artistic. I just want the atmosphere for meditation.

This has been,

FanTC

Ponderings

The Great Quarantine

Wait, we’re STILL in quarantine?

By this time last year, the entire world was experiencing some form of dread and fear of the unknown while shutting themselves up in their homes and staring at the television screen with sleep-deprived eyes.

We didn’t know what was out there. After shows like Bird Box, Containment, Virus, and even the strange one that specifically focused on adults and killed them or turned them into zombie-like blood-suckers, fresh in our minds, we felt an edge of terror wondering if this would be our final hour.

Daybreak – that’s the one with the kids surviving in a Lord of the Flies style. Took a heck of a lot of googling to find it.


I haven’t been sick for an entire year. Not a single cold or fever. Imagine all the germs we’re protecting ourselves from by sanitizing and masking up – or SUIT UP! as I like to say. I suppose that is something to be thankful for. And we didn’t lose our jobs which is itself a blessing.

But we’re still here, aren’t we? We’re still living this hellish nightmare of an invisible murderer. Let’s face it – there are no answers, and looking to government to “save” us like some cosmic Superman is childish. No one has the answers. Even this vaccine is still in trial stage. You know it. I know it. We all subconsciously hold our breath when someone we know gets the shot, like we’re waiting for hell to lay down its cards and we’ve just lost.

But you know, my body hasn’t felt this tranquil in years. I don’t have office stress. I sleep more. I’m spending more time with my husband – and I STILL like being around him. I’ll bet a lot of families are enjoying the same. I’m sure it’s hard with kids. But I bet it’s also nice. I bet relationships are growing stronger in ways you won’t realize until much later. I wonder if this will cultivate a grateful generation – just grateful to have friends and be connected, go to school, sit in class, and some day sit in an office or behind a register just grateful for what they have.

This is my hope. Let’s see what we gained. It might not come to harvest for years, but keep watering the seeds of your labor.

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin

Ponderings

The Glorified Footstool

The convenience of meeting up in January is the “how long have we been together?” math is super easy.

Most married folk can relate to the lackadaisical lounging attributes of the recently married but not yet geriatric couple. We’re quite comfortable together. Physical contact is built into our love language, so this sort of draping, lounging, languid touch means something. You don’t have to talk constantly.

I thought I wanted more conversation. That was important in the beginning. I make sure to ask how his day went and listen to the venting. But most of the time, what is there to talk about? Newspapers and books have been replaced by phones in this digital age. We discuss the big news, reflect on experiences, but all stories have been told at this point.

So our connection is this glorified footstool position. It’s human nature (for physical types, that is.) Just be a warm body in a room. Let me know you’re there. Reassure me I’m not alone.

Oh, and pick up your dirty socks. This isn’t a farm.

This has been,

Lackadaisically,

FanTC

Ponderings

Windows

I do so love staring out of windows. Cozied up safe from the elements whether cold and snow or sun and wind. I like to catch little moments of something or another.

You see the wind tussling long grass or kicking up leaves. Some days it’s a flurry of white flakes. If you happen upon a robin scouring for worms or dark crows pecking at beetles, it’s better. Your eye happily follows the movement.

A bit of thought trails in. Your eye reflects inward. Either the past or the future has captured your attention and you’re quite lost to the present. You might even be blind to the walker with their dog thoroughly enjoying the weather.

Your mind returns to the present. The wind is still blowing. The birds have moved on. Shadows play across the lawn instead. It’s moments like these I love staring out of windows.

Which makes it doubly sad our current residence has no decent window views for gazing.

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin