AND A PHOTO OF AN ANCIENT ME

Okay, enough with the photographs already! This should be called the age of Narcism! I see myself as I look now and how I will be twenty years from now (if I'm lucky! Now here's a reason for liking looking older -- you have survived!)

HERE ARE PHOTOS OF A VERY SHLUMPY ME

It struck me that I was always sort of censoring my photos before posting -- don't look too old; don't look to shlumpy. But at least 70 % of the time I go around looking like this. It reminds me of the song, ALL OF ME, WHY NOT TAKE ALL OF ME?

PAYSON ON THE MELVILLE

PROMISED PHOTOS OF MY BATHROOM

A PHOTO OF A VIEW I DON'T ALWAYS HAVE

Our friend Tony Ramos, fabulous artist, great photographer, story-teller, system-bucker, visited us from the South of France over last weekend and I haven't enjoyed a house guest this much in a long time. He took this photo of Payson and me while we were out strolling downtown San Diego after we said our goodbyes to the MELVILLE, research vessel being retired. Payson had sailed to Antarctica in it.

HOW METHOD CAN HELP YOU RELAX AND THE JOYS OF HAVING YOUR OWN BATHROOM

I’m very proud of myself for figuring out a way to be in this wide swath of time given to me after much struggle and busyness. I have been fearful that if I had too much time on my hands – which I do now, having almost completed a very long standing project, so long it has been a joke with my family and friends: MALINI IN WHIRLWOOD -- I would go crazy. I feel easy in my mind around everything and take joy at the prospect of my days in which I putter from thing to thing, following my method, which includes, ‘now I’m going to take a break and play three games of backgammon,’ or ‘now I’m going to lie down for ten minutes and simply be with my breath,’ or ‘now I’m going to lure Payson out of his study and into the brilliant sunshine so we can eat some vitamin D.’

Just now I nurtured my body by microwaving some pure Shea butter in a fiesta ware container allocated to it for all time, bringing it downstairs to my own bathroom, turning on the heater (it is nippy at 55 degrees at 11:00 a.m.), stripping down to nothing, sitting on my stool and greasing up my very dry body, then clipping my toenails. Payson came in and I greased up his hair and neck and face, too. He doesn’t let me do it often, but I love nurturing him too.

Just a word about my bathroom: some might consider it a luxury but a bathroom of your own is essential. It is a place for downtime, for relaxation and self-nurturing. I love my travertine sink that I hunted for in five shops when the bathroom was modeled four years ago, I love the rug in it (not because it is particularly beautiful or expensive) but because it gives me something soft to stand on when I do my ablutions. 

Next post, pictures of my bathroom. 

IN PRAISE OF METHOD

I love method and follow it from moment to moment. A simple thing like this gives me joy:

I’m going to put the kettle on, take a pee (shouldn’t it be ‘give’ a pee?), bring down the mug from the cabinet, put a tea bag in it, clean the counter if the water still hasn’t boiled, pour it, then go downstairs and turn on the synthesizer.

A definition of METHOD is illuminating. By the way, I use the American Heritage Dictionary of The English Language, my favorite: the root means ‘to go,’ ‘to go after,’ ‘pursuit;’ journey comes from the same root. ‘A means and manner of procedure, a regular and systematic way of accomplishing anything,’ ‘Orderly and systematic arrangement.’

In my case right now the ‘accomplishing’ means getting through my day with sanity and joy.