I’m not feeling very well tonight, truth be told. My husband and I are having an epic fight.
We haven’t had one in… hm… more than a year. Things had really calmed down. And then… mold had to happen… again…
So the short story is that he’s had this armoire for a very, very long time. It went with him into several apartments and now resides in our home. Somewhere in there it picked up a bunch of mold. To me, that is the kiss of death.
You can’t really get rid of it. You have to get rid of the object. Every time I’ve tried, I’ve failed.
But, apparently, he loves that old thing more than (okay… hear me complain…) my peace of mind. Apparently he loves it more than HIS peace of mind!
I’m angry because I feel disrespected. Oh, I forgot to say most of my clothes are in it. Today I happened to dig through it looking for a purse and fished out something that looked like… well, you don’t really want to know.
I just don’t feel very “good feelings-y” tonight.
So while I was putting my son to bed tonight I was trying to rack my brain to come up with a subject for the day’s blog post.
Yeah…. yeah… find good feelings…
I’m seeing red.
Right now this furry is sort of coloring everything.
Always and forever, my son, of course. He is the “sacred ground” where I don’t go with anger and pettiness. Or at least I try to.
But I wanted to fish for something that felt genuinely good.
That is how I stumbled into textures.
It is such a simple – and extremely efficient – way to get out of my head!
Touching things and feeling their texture is a form of active meditation that instantly switches your “now” brain on.
There is pleasure in the smoothness of a metal spoon; in the softness of a cotton sheet; in the fluffiness of a towel; in the roughness of sandpaper… I could spend hours that way.
But after only a few minutes I feel calmer. More soothed.
Not to mention, I can go into my imagination for a limitless number of textures. Like the one of a cut tree, with its many rings… and cracks… and many, many stories.
Oh, yes, I do feel better.
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