Clearly the most efficient way for me to NOT accomplish something (e.g. writing more) is to make it a New Year’s Resolution.
I haven’t updated this thing in an embarrassingly long time. I have about 4 drafts saved on here that I started, but I realized that most of them were started when I was feeling particularly rant-y, and people only want to read your bitching about the world so much before they start watching Parks and Recreation so Leslie Knope’s infectious happiness and optimism can fill the black pit of anger your rant just created. So instead, this is going to be a ramble into something I saw when I was running the other night.
I guess I should start with the shameless plug: I was out running because I’m doing a 5K at the end of October to raise money for clean water projects in Burundi. Great cause–feel free to read more details at my fundraising page here and donate to my run 🙂
Anyway, so I was out running around my neighborhood, and we had just had a bit of a cool front through so instead of feeling like I was running through a sticky swamp I was relishing the cool night air. I’ve been at this for a few weeks now, so this was one of the first times this actually felt enjoyable and not like a punishment for being out of shape. I’m actually starting to let my mind go while doing this now instead of thinking about how much further I can force my unwilling legs to carry me.
On the way home I passed by this gated condo complex that I’ve never really paid much attention to before. But on this night I noticed that it had an illuminated water fountain in the middle of a pond, and there’s something special about the light, such that it looks like the water itself is what is vibrantly glowing instead of lights shining on it. I caught sight of it through the wrought iron fence behind some vegetation.
I guess this is proof this whole running this is good for me. Because I think a few weeks ago I would have looked over there and thought: “Figures, that’s where the damn mosquitoes are coming from.” But instead I looked at the fountain through the fence and thought how I would have been completely enchanted by that as a kid. I had a pretty big imagination for fanciful things–as in I wanted to go to the Amazon because I was convinced I would find Fern Gully and become a fairy, and I tried to get all my little friends to read all the books I loved so we could “play Anne of Green Gables.” I would have found that gated off fountain magical. If I lived in this neighborhood, I probably would have invited friends over for sleepovers just so we could walk down the street to look at the “secret garden” through the fence and make up stories about the mystical creatures that lived there. In elementary school a friend of mine had a bunch of toads in the flowerbeds in her front yard. We would go catch a few of them and give them names and pretend they were rulers of the flowerbed kingdom.
Back to the present…I’m not really sure where I was going with all of this, but I guess the thought I’ve kind of settled on while writing it down is that there’s still room for magic in adulthood, no matter how much of it I’ve let slip away. I’ve been feeling a real lack of that lately, probably because I find most of my magic out in the wilderness, which the whole grown-up job thing leaves me less time for. I’ve been trying to prioritize it more lately.
But for now, at least running helps. Sometimes a fountain is just there to pretty-up a mosquitofied storm water retention pond, and sometimes you need it to be a secret garden.