Hello faithful readers and welcome to you new subscribers who joined during my break, I’m back! It was an intense month (not surprising since I was taking a 4 week American Sign Language 3 intensive in Sacramento) as well as teaching a two day art workshop in Mendocino. I slept (or as is often the case with me, laid) in so many different beds and places my head was spinning. Over the month I kept thinking about the dandelion I left you with at the beginning of June, pondering the thoughts and ideas the image was conjuring. It is common practice to pluck a dandelion, make a wish and blow your wishes to the wind. That image seemed a fitting symbol for my state of being by the end of June, I found myself wishful and wistful. My wishing wasn’t focused on anything grand or monumental or noble. I wasn’t wishing to win the lottery or land a big show at the Modern Museum of Art or to end world hunger, as I held my little internal dandelion the thing I kept wishing for was ordinary time, to just have normal, regular… ordinary time. Not driving, not visiting, not planning, just ordinary time. In the liturgical calendar of the Episcopal Church (and maybe others too for all I know) there are seasons. There is Advent, Epiphany, Lent, Easter and then, the day after Pentecost, there is ordinary time. It seems to me that ordinary time, both liturgically and personally, gives a bit of space, a bit of breathing room, a time for respite, recovery and reflection. And so as I set my dandelion seeds adrift on the wind of my wishes I find myself wishing for nothing more than run of the mill, common, normal, ordinary time with a little turtle-time* mixed in.
*Turtle-time is what my son Ivan dubbed alone time back when he was 6.
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