What is comfortable--what seems easy and feels safe--is to turn straight back and go muck around in the depths some more. Where I know I won't be challenged, or acknowledged, or met halfway; but where I won't be challenged, or acknowledged, or met halfway.
The idea of the Grand Canyon gnawed at me while I did the daily things, including cleaning in preparation to have guests, which is scary to me. Not cleaning. But having people over. It just is.
Some of you are familiar with Ignite Boulder. Submissions for "sparks," or speaking topics, opened today. I thought about it, and felt scared. I looked at the submission process, and it was simple. So I submitted. If my topic is accepted, I'll be presenting 20 slides in five minutes at the Boulder Theater in May. In front of 600 or so people. Dear God. I texted some friends with my braveness and needing to borrow props. Know what I got in return? "I've no doubt you could do it and ROCK," and "you can always count on me." Awww...seriously?
Art Night was intimate: me and Mia. I asked her to bring Epsom salt and rubbing alcohol. She presented these to me with an inquisitive "ingrown toenail?" But no: along the lines of not taking any steps back, I'd been instructed to smudge my house. For the uninitiated: burning something--usually sage--and saying a few words about clearing negative energy. The salt and alcohol attracts the negative ions or something. We tried it, with much laughter, and either it was us getting up and walking around with a pan of fire or it actually worked, because we both felt the air was "lighter" following. We also did some art.
And then these arrived. No joke, not making this up, truth stranger than fiction and all that. So very beautiful, these roses. A souvenir from the road less taken, about five minutes after I chose it. Freaky.
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