Life is improving. But then, if you are a spring child like myself that is rather normal, no? February is a notorious month for severe winter doldrums and a vicious hit of the blues. Minor anxiety attacks, fear of not earning enough, etc, etc., Not to mention, with a mostly tourism based income, this is my poorest month of the year. It can feel like simply a rather wretched moment to get past. And when at last these negative vibes are behind me rather than before... Ahhhh.
Amongst the good things filling my basket are :
Tourism is picking up. I guess passing the health care bill has truly impressed the American public? Or a whiff of hope is in the air, nourished by the promise of a better world? Or, simply, the fact that though unemployment and fear are out still there, many are nonetheless earning the necessary funds to travel and explore and are eager to do so.
In any case, thank you Universe for the numerous clients I am booking from now through October. I am most properly grateful and conscious of my good fortune. Time to warn my artisans they'll be seeing a lot of me this year!
Miracles of miracles, my man is open to change, shifting, being pushed, and accepting me more fully as I am. My kids and I were at the Mas this weekend and it went well for all.
T'is such a curious thing presenting your children another world to make their own. It's not a world they will live in full time. But it is a world that they will visit regularly and in which I hope they begin to feel a sense of comfort and belonging.
I've been having discussions with Leo about the homes in which he is comfortable, qu'il a appropriés. Primarily that means Arles (his father's house and the house he was raised in), Avignon (our current home since the winter of 2006), but also the homes of my mother in NY (where we spend many a Christmas) and in Michigan (our summer home). These four worlds are his. He knows them. He is at ease in them. He understands the rules (or the lack there-of), the dimensions, the expectations and the possibilities of these homes.
And now we are re-connecting with the Mas, the winery, the family home of JP. It has woods and a wonderful out-doors, like Michigan. It has TV and computer, but moderated and controlled, like NY. It has dogs to run and play with like Avignon and Michigan.
In Arles there are no rules or expectations. In my mother's homes the rules and expectations are strict and severe. At JP's it is a touch more strict than in Avignon, but no where near as strict as at Gramma's. When you're feeling bored, grab a book and hang out on the couch or in your room, just like in Avignon or Michigan. But, yes, you can spend some time on the computer, just like in Arles, but not much.
And yes, my kids are not too accustomed to having me there yet not focused on them (yoga sessions excepted). To everyone's relief, I seem to be past the major stress I used to feel over whether or not my three men would get along. There's enough of me to share. I set up the situation, I do my part, and I let them be themselves. I love each, and I am proud of each. Maybe that's enough.
Yes, spring is here, hope is in the air, possibilities aplenty are presenting themselves. Whole and present, I'm reveling in it all.