Don’t ask me why I have George Clinton running through my head, because I couldn’t tell you. Just like I can’t explain the other random tunes and lyrics that have been going through my head for the past couple of weeks. Perhaps they have been my subconscious trying to clue me in. At least, that is how I am choosing to think of this little earworm.
To date, 2014 has been an odd year. It started with an extended stay in Hawaii, was shortly followed by a work cruise (and no that is not an oxymoron), then a few days after my return I went to the east coast to spend may father’s last few days with him him followed by his funeral and shiva. All in all, I have spent less than 2 weeks at home in the past 2 months.
Looking backwards at 2013, it seems like I spent much of it in suspended animation. My father’s health was precarious enough that I spent a fair amount of time waiting for the inevitable call that my father’s health had taken a turn for the worse. Whether consciously or not, I put a part of myself on hold. And I am now realizing that the part I put on hold was my creative side.
The one knitting project I completed was kind of a disaster because I didn’t have the focus to notice the glaring error that turned a lace scarf into a Barbie runway. Although I spent much of the year wanting to weave, I never did get around to doing the necessary work to warp my loom. Nor did I ever pull out my lap loom which is a cinch to warp.
I also stopped reading. I took interesting sounding books out of the library, but they sat, unread, on my bookshelf. I still keep renewing them, but the pile keeps shrinking as other people put holds on them and I am forced to return them.
My father often complained of boredom at the end of his life. He was never much of a tv watcher and his dementia made it hard for him to retain the plotlines of movies or books. He and I had way too many conversations where he tried to live vicariously through me and all I could tell him about my life is that it was as boring as his. My intention for the coming year is to do things I enjoy to honor his memory.
I still occasionally find myself tensing up in anticipation of that dreaded call, until I remember that that time has come and gone. Now it is time to bring the fun back into my life. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday soon. I am reading again. True, I am reading books that I have already read, but it is a start. I don’t feel up to pulling out my knitting today, but who knows, I might tomorrow. And if it takes me a year to finish a simple project, so be it.