It's sometime during my tenth grade year. Saturday Morning. The thunderstorm rains outside. I'm curled up in a bean bag chair, which is nestled in the nook of the dormer window. Which is in my closet of a bedroom.
Ahhhhhh.
Seventy square feet of control and perfection. And isolation. Which is a big deal to a tenth grader who has five annoying and invasive little brothers and sisters. I am reading the Nonesuch, by Georgette Heyer. While eating Tostitos and salsa. All while it's raining outside. Thunder shakes. Clouds darken. The lamp in my room illuminates my paperback and the next salsa-covered white corn tortilla chip. I am warm and dry and in control of everything that matters... everything inside seventy square feet of my own little kingdom.
My world is so much bigger than seventy square feet now. I don't even pretend to have absolute control or perfection anymore. Everything is operating at about 60% capacity, and that's on a good day. Chaos pushes in from all sides. Sometimes I am not okay with that. Some days I lose ground. Some days I desperately wish to be nothing more than seventy square feet again, so I can keep it all perfect. So I can feel that all is well with the world. My world. Regency novels and Tostitos and the rain outside, trying to threaten me, but not succeeding, because it is out there, and I am in here.
But I can't go back. I think of Flowers for Algernon, and how sometimes expanding your world hurts. And how there are unpleasant surprises and you want to shrink back to where you were, to know only what you used to know, to be and do only what you used to be and do.
But some days I am okay even though I am dropping balls while I juggle. That I am getting wet in the rain, that my life has chaos pushing at me from all sides. There is something of a thrill when I realize I am surrounded by chaos, but I am still okay. That I can roll with the punches, that I am in the midst of a powerful universe, all mixed up in the middle of it, and yet I am still okay. I am dancing a lively dance with Chaos, making it work as I go along, figuring things out and always managing to hold my head above water. And when I feel that thrill, seventy square feet just can't contain me anymore. I've outgrown it. The strength and power of my soul just won't fit in there anymore.
And who wants a soul that fits inside seventy square feet anyway? Not me, at least when I remember it's all about growing, and not about shrinking.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
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8 comments:
How did you get 70 square feet of your own with all of those sisters and brothers???? You were a very lucky young lady! :)
well said girl! I have those same feelings...I just can't write like you:)
"A Lively Dance With Chaos"...sounds like a title to a piece of modern art. Love it.
Do you really think only 60% capacity? I always wonder how it would be to be able to do everything 100%. Would we be impressed with ourselves? Would I be simply amazing? And would I be thinner? 'Cuz in my little world I totally am.
That was very well said. I'm impressed you can calculate just how much thinking capacity you use. There are times when I definately think at a greater capacity than others. In those times I feel like I can do anything I put my mind to, even those things I'm afraid of trying when I am thinking at a lower capacity.
Did that make sense?
Sierra, I'm not really sure what kind of people you are referring to...control freaks who struggle to let go? And how does explaining something to a recovered control freak equal a compliment?
Debi, that room was the diamond in the rough of our house, a portion of a room partitioned off, about the size of a walk-in closet. None of the other kids wanted it, so I snatched up the chance to have a room to myself while they figured it was better to share a bigger space. Later, they coveted and I was forced out of it, but for a while, I had my little escape every day.
Amanda, I know what you mean. Being a mom means letting go. Especially with a baby. And I may be able to write, but you have talents I don't have, like the ability to keep your house clean and come up with crafts for your kids.
And to those of you who wonder about 60%...you should ask Michael how often I answer his questions with a percentage. How are you doing today? I'm 86% happy. And he always asks how I know it's 86%. It's just a gut level feeling with a number intuitively tied to it.
And yes, Cheryl, it makes sense. It is a matter of being grounded, centered, and in touch with my higher self. And even my best moments I realize there is more potential for me, that perfection is still a ways off. I suppose from that perspective 60% is a little steep, but that's how I felt when I wrote the post, that there was at least 40% between me and pure power and ability.
i think i need to start answering peter in percentages. :-)
Heather, I've been trying to find you for awhile now (it's your old elementary school + partner in crime, Lynda BTW)! Sara H. told me you had a blog, then this post about the closet room gave you away, it was such a cool little space. I could see you using the mystery of that space as the setting of a story. E-mail me at lynlyn@aggienetwork.com sometime when you have a chance!
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